


What have I become (my sweetest friend?)

by ithoughtslashmeanthorror



Series: See how deep the bullet lies [5]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham (Video Games)
Genre: Angst, Batfamily Feels, Brother Feels, Bruce Wayne is a Good Dad, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Has Issues, Flashbacks, Fluff, Gen, I hate tagging, Jason Todd Has Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-03-31 06:20:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 82,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13969173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ithoughtslashmeanthorror/pseuds/ithoughtslashmeanthorror
Summary: Dick, Barbara, and Tim know Bruce is alive, and they’re not happy with their former mentor and adopted-father.Bruce knows he should try and make it better, but at the same time Jason is missing again and Bruce will not lose his son for a second time.





	1. Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry guys!
> 
> I just needed a bit of a break. Plus this was really hard to write! 
> 
> And I realised why last night (as I finished this).
> 
> I got three stories of just Bruce and Jason and got to flesh out every emotion that they felt and that was the writing style I got used to. You can't flesh out everything everyone is feeling (totally in depth) in every section, especially when there are four or five people in the chapter.
> 
> But the first time I wrote it, I tried to do just that and it was... not what I wanted.
> 
> So I threw out the original story (which I'm really sad about in some ways, because some of the parts were great) and started again.

The Manor was quiet, Bruce noted. He had just come home from a mission with all three of his protégés, where they had been patrolling the Bank of Gotham undercover in the middle of the day. The lull felt uneasy as if something was about to happen. Something was about to go wrong.

Typically, after such a mission, there would be frantic exchanges in report notes or teasing coming from someone about another’s mistakes. Considering Dick had walked into a wall while watching Barbara walk by, there should have been more noise. He walked over to the desk in his room and opened his laptop. He fixed his cufflinks, as he opened up the security app and flicked through the channels until he found the camera feeds that were trained in the hallway just outside the boy’s rooms.

“Dick!” Jason shouted, coming out of his bedroom, clutching a towel around his waist and dripping wet. He was sixteen but well-built for his age, matching Dick’s eighteen-year-old frame. He was a far cry from the underfed eleven-year-old who had stolen the Batmobile’s tyres in the back of Crime Alley. “Did you take my shampoo again?!”

Shuffling erupted from Dick’s room and some clatter before he appeared in the hallway, still damp with his suit pants on and a towel around his shoulders. He held a bottle of shampoo in his hand. “This one?”

“Why the hell did you take my shampoo?” Jason demanded.

“Cause I ran out and yours smells better than Bruce’s.” Dick waved it in his hands. “Want it back or not?”

Jason growled and held his hands out, and Dick threw it.

“Mine!” From the guest room, which was unofficially her room, Barbara ran out in a towel and grabbed the shampoo bottle from mid-air. “Sorry boys, but I need this.”

“Barbara!” Jason snapped. “That’s mine!”

“Just use body wash,” Dick said, rolling his eyes.

Jason leant into his room, grabbing the first thing he could – a tennis ball – and pegged it at Dick. The elder had to half close his door to avoid being hit, and the tennis ball bounced off the wood harmlessly. “Why don’t you just use body wash?” he yelled and turned his attention back to Barbara. He calmed his tone and tried to speak sweetly, but his frustration was palpable in every word. “I’m in the middle of my shower. Please give me back my shampoo.”

Barbara opened the bottle lid and walked over to Jason. He adjusted his towel, so it wasn’t hanging so low as she got closer, a blush rising up in his cheeks. When they were toe to toe, Barbara squeezed a handful of shampoo on top of his head, then used her palm to rub it in for good measure. “There. Now I need to get ready! Alfred said we have to be ready in an hour.” Barbara turned and disappeared into her room, taking the shampoo with her.

“Wait, no! Come back! Barbara, the instructions say rinse and repeat! I can’t repeat with just this!” But Jason it seemed was reluctant to leave his room in nothing but a towel. The shampoo was dripping down his head, and he frantically scraped it from his skin back into his follicles.

Dick shot Jason a funny expression. “Who the hell repeats?”

Jason glared back at Dick. “Buy your own damn shampoo, Dickhead!” He slammed the door shut and Dick stared after him, rolling his eyes as he went back to his room.

“What a diva,” he muttered, going back to his room.

Bruce continued to watch the feed for a minute longer, then shut it off, unable to entirely erase the smile on his lips.

* * *

Bruce made coffees, but they (along with the breakfast Jason made) had all gone untouched. Dick sat on one of the armchairs, Tim on the other, and Barbara sat in the middle, holding Tim’s hand on her lap. They all were glaring down their noses at him with matching looks of annoyance, and he stared back at them from the three-seater, not knowing what to say, and holding an ice pack against his swelling jaw.

“How did you find me?” Bruce asked eventually.

Dick glared at him disbelievingly, then pulled out his phone, scrolling through and opening a message. “You texted me asking for help, with your coordinates.”

Bruce looked at the message and thought of how his phone had been on the nightstand while he was unconscious. Jason must have taken it then. “I see,” he said, looking over his shoulder at the door.

“Somewhere else you’d rather be, Bruce?” Dick demanded.

If he were honest, there was. He wanted to be outside, chasing down Jason. He wanted to know what was going on with Selina and Jason and if she had found him yet. All he could think of was how she should have caught up with him by now. She was a good tracker. Then again, Jason was also very good at running away and staying away. Bruce had looked for him for five days once before he’d tracked him to an apartment in Blüdhaven where he was staying with his friend Leo, from Crime Alley. 

Jason learnt how to track a man and cover his trail almost as well as Bruce. Bruce had been proud of that at the time, even though it annoyed him to no ends. It clearly still did.

“Bruce!” Dick snapped. “Are you just daydreaming?”

Bruce sighed and put the ice pack down on the table. “I have some things on my mind.”

“We’ve had some things on our mind too,” Barbara said, her voice as frigid as Mr Freeze’ suit. “Like your death.”

“I can’t believe you did that,” Dick laughed, humourlessly. “We actually thought… What about Alfred? Is he alive too?”

Bruce nodded then thought about his butler and best friend. He had said he was going to keep an eye on Dick and Tim. “He should be here soon,” Bruce murmured, looking at the clock. If the boys had found him, surely Alfred would reveal himself. “If he wasn’t visiting his daughter.”

“We spoke to Julia. We told her he was dead,” Barbara said.

Bruce shook his head. “She knows Alfred’s alive. He sent her a message the night of the explosion.”

“Who else knows?” Dick demanded.

There was no point in lying. Not anymore. “Clark, Diana, some of the League… I don’t think they told the other kids.”

Tim closed his eyes and pressed his face into his free hand, in utter disbelief, still not saying a word.

“So everyone but us. Wow, Bruce… Just, wow.” Dick stood up and shook his hair around his head. He was shaking with rage and began to pace to get out all his pent-up energy.

Bruce couldn’t blame him. It was how he’d felt when he found out about Jason; only Bruce was angry at himself because he was the father. Dick was rightfully mad at Bruce because Dick was the son. It pained him to no ends, but there was no way to make him understand. Not without explaining to him everything, from The Joker to Jason.

“Where have you been this whole time?” Barbara asked.

“Here,” Bruce replied. “I came here right after The Siege. I needed time.”

“Time for what? For us to organise your memorial?” Dick snapped. His eyes were glassy with angry tears, and Bruce wanted to get up and grab him, but he stayed in his seat.

“I didn’t want anyone connecting you to Nightwing and Robin,” Bruce said. “The plan was to contact you once I got here.”

“What happened?” Barbara was trying to be calm and level-headed, to balance out Dick’s outrage and Tim’s silence but Bruce could see the subtle fury beneath her skin. It flushed her cheeks pink, and she kept playing with the pendant around her neck, obscuring it from view. “You’re here. You’ve been here for weeks. Why didn’t you contact us?”

Bruce looked at the door again, desperate for Selina to come back with Jason in tow. He didn’t want to tell them, especially not Dick, that Jason was alive. Not while he was missing. Dick, on the outside, was well put together but when something broke him, it shattered everything. He’d seen it happen a few times, but with Jason, it was the worst.

The last time Jason had gone missing, Dick had been…

He still could see him storming out of the Batcave when he’d told Dick that The Joker had killed Jason. Dick hadn’t believed Bruce and demanded to watch the video.

Bruce had refused him. He didn’t need that to be his last memory of Jason.

Dick had left that night as Nightwing, determined to find his brother wherever he was. He searched for three nights without sleep. Bruce eventually found him collapsed on a Gotham rooftop. He’d pushed himself to the point of exhaustion and fell, unable to get back up. He was crying silently as the rain beat him further into the concrete. He remembered picking him up and helping him into the Batmobile to take him home, and how he’d sobbed, begging the heavens to bring Jason back all through the night.

That was the night he started making plans for Jason’s funeral. Even though they’d buried an empty coffin, Bruce thought that, if for nothing else, then maybe they could all have some closure.

Now, he couldn’t just tell Dick that Jason was alive without having Jason there. It would drive him mad, and Bruce didn’t want that. He hadn’t wanted anything of this. “Some things changed,” Bruce admitted. “I had to recalculate.”

“This isn’t a maths equation, Bruce!” Dick yelled. “This is letting your family know that you’re safe and not dead! I thought you were…” Dick slammed his jaw and rubbed a hand over his face. “You’re such an asshole.” He walked over to the balcony off the living room and stepped outside, burying his face in his hands.

Bruce wanted to go out to Dick but stayed put. Dick preferred to deal with things on his own, and maybe that was Bruce’s fault for not insisting on shouldering some of the burdens together. It wasn’t the time to make him change his habits, so Bruce turned his attention to his youngest.

Tim still had half his face hidden behind his hand, eyes shut and unable to look up at Bruce. “Tim,” he said gently. Timothy wasn’t like Dick, who wore his emotions on his sleeve or Jason, who brooded obviously.

Tim was always quiet, with everything he thought and felt.

He had been since he’d quietly arrived at the Manor, aged fifteen with newspaper clippings in hand telling Bruce he knew he was Batman, he knew Jason was missing, and he had an idea as to where he might be. 

He’d already known who Tim was, having met him before. Son of Jack and Janet Drake, frequent attendees of all Gotham social events, Tim had always caught Bruce’s eyes at Gotham events. He was quiet, a stood dejectedly in the corner, never with anyone else and never near The Drake’s who ignored him to the point where they’d forgotten he was at the ball and Bruce had paid for a taxi to take the boy home. He’d had his theories about the Drake’s for a long time, but neglect wasn’t necessarily a Batman issue.

At the time Tim showed up on his doorstep, Bruce had been desperate. It had been six months since Jason was taken and Bruce was frightened beyond belief. The evidence Tim gave him proved sound. Joker had left hundreds of clues and trails that all led to dead ends, and Tim had caught onto one of the trickier ones. Bruce had given him an old suit of Jason’s so his identity wouldn’t be compromised while they investigated, but even then, it hung off his thin frame as they followed his theory. 

It had led them to an ex-lover of Jason’s father, Sheila Haywood and a warehouse in the middle of nowhere rigged to explode. Bruce had watched the bomb go off just as they landed the plane, and he had dug through the wreckage with Tim’s help. They found Sheila Haywood there, but the only sign of Jason was a mannequin, painted with a red smile and dressed up in a Halloween store Robin suit.

Tim had apologised extensively and tried to leave, but – after some convincing from Dick – Bruce decided to train him instead. Tim moved into the Manor slowly without either of his parents or Bruce really, even realising it. He took up such little space and made such little sounds that it was only one day when he entered the guest room did he realise that Tim had moved an entire wardrobe into the Manor.

He’d sat him down and spoken to him about his parents that night. “What do they think you’re doing here?”

Tim shrugged his gangly shoulders. “I don’t know. I don’t know if they know where I am. I don’t really know where _they_ are.”

Bruce blinked in surprise. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know… they sometimes don’t tell me when they leave and it’s only the three of us in this giant mansion. They left four months ago, and I haven’t really heard from them since.”

“They never call to check up on you?”

“No?” He had been confused by that. He hadn’t understood that phone calls from parents were normal for a long time. Bruce later found out the Drake’s didn’t like Tim watching television, so he didn’t even have sitcoms to compare his life to, or else the quick-minded Tim would have realised sooner that his living situation wasn’t exactly typical.

The Drake’s had been in Egypt, and when Bruce contacted them via an email about their son spending time at Wayne Manor, he made it out as if Tim and Dick had befriended each other. He asked if it was okay for Tim to stay with them rather than stay by himself at his home. They responded a week later, with an email from their secretary detailing that they had received a research position at Oxford University and were sending for Tim to join them. 

 _But,_ the email read. _If Timothy wishes to remain in Gotham, he can always stay in Drake Manor, and the Drake's will send him a monthly stipend._  

Bruce had promptly written back. _That won’t be necessary Miss Winters. Tim can live with me, and I will support him. To which address shall I send the paperwork to?_

Out of all three of the boys, when Bruce offered to adopt him, Tim had been the most reserved and told Bruce he didn’t have to. “I’ll get emancipated or something,” he shrugged. Bruce had forgotten about how much he’d shrugged as a teenager.

“That’s an option,” Bruce said. “But I’d personally prefer to call you my son.”

Tim had asked to think it over, but by the end of the week, he started introducing himself as Timothy Drake-Wayne. Out of all the boys, he used the Wayne name the most, because the Wayne’s had given him somewhere to belong.

“Tim,” Bruce said carefully.

Tim took a moment before he lifted his head from his hands, not quite meeting Bruce’s eye. He thought of the last time he’d seen his youngest, in need of medical attention. Jim said he’d handle it and Bruce had believed him because Jim Gordon was a good man.

“You can yell at me too if you want,” he continued.

Tim ran a hand through his hair, looking weary. “I’ve got nothing to yell about.” He stared dejectedly at the wall over Bruce’s shoulders, and he remembered the same look on his face when Bruce had told him, his parents weren’t coming back to Gotham. Out of all of them, it must have stung for Tim the worst. He hadn’t even considered what it would be like for him, who had already had one set of parents abandon him, and he felt the guilt that he’d been trying to push away rise inside of him.

“I was always going to come back,” Bruce said.

Tim shook his head. “You don’t understand. I’m not… I’m not upset. Or mad, or angry or… or anything. I get it. I’m sort of just relieved.”

“Relieved?” Bruce asked.

“I didn’t think we’d find you shacked up with Selina on a couple’s retreat,” Tim said pointedly, and when Bruce still didn’t understand, a hint of venom snuck into his voice. “I thought you’d be eye deep in makeup and dressed in a stylish purple suit.”

Bruce looked at Barbara, but she wasn’t surprised, and she had her lips pursed in a hard line. Of course, Tim had told her, and he looked to the balcony where Dick was hauled up and figured he must have known about The Joker infection too.

“Oh,” he said quietly. “So Dick brought the two of you for back up.”

“Dick doesn’t know,” Tim corrected him, and that surprised Bruce even more. Before Bruce could ask why Tim didn’t tell his brother, Tim already began shaking his head and pressed his face into his palms. “I couldn’t tell him. We only found out because Kon was with him when he got your message and we were concerned that you’d only texted him.”

Of course Jason had only texted Dick because he thought only Dick could calm Bruce down when Jason left. What he didn’t quite understand was how much Dick missed him, and how Bruce would have had to calm Dick down if he had told him about Jason.

“The Joker can’t control me anymore. I locked him away.”

For the first time since Tim got there, he looked up at Bruce with eyes blazing bright with… with something. Worry? Disbelief? Anxiety? “You locked him away? What do you mean?”

“I’ve tried to figure it out in the last few weeks. But when Scarecrow dosed me in fear gas the second time, I wasn’t me. It was The Joker who he doused. I managed to overcome the gas, but Joker wasn’t strong enough to. Once I overpowered him, I, for lack of a better word, locked him away.”

He hadn’t heard the laughter that had woken him up at night, since The Siege.

Tim looked stunned. “Those people… they died.”

“They’d already lost to him,” Bruce said remorsefully. “And I’ve spent years guarding my mind against persuasion and fear gas.”

Tim still didn’t look like he believed him and his eyes kept studying Bruce’s eyes for a trace of _him_. “Maybe we can run some tests,” Barbara suggested, squeezing Tim’s hand. “To make sure.”

“It’s still in my DNA, Barbara. Just in smaller amounts.”

Barbara smiled politely, hand still over Tim’s. “We can still run tests.”

Bruce wondered what other tests she would like to run, especially on Jason when she found out he was back. He hadn’t thought much of what Barbara, or Tim for that matter, would think of Jason’s return. She’d loved him like a brother, and had taken him under her wing, as Jason and as Robin. She would sit and listen to every one of his complaints about Bruce and Dick, and in any argument between the brothers, she took Jason’s side over Dick’s. Barbara never made a single apology about Jason being her clear favourite out of the two. But Bruce never thought she needed to.

Batgirl and Dick’s Robin had fought side by side for a little over a year. Jason and Barbara had been together for six.

Tim, on the other hand, had admired Jason from afar, trailing him around Gotham Academy and watching him from his bedroom window. When Bruce offered him Robin, Tim had been petrified of failing Jason’s memory. On more than one occasion, Bruce had found Tim sitting in Jason’s room whispering for his ghost to give him advice or a sign that he was doing the right thing.

But that was all before The Siege.

“There’ll be time for that,” he said.

His eyes travelled to the scars on Barbara’s arm, fresh from where she’d crawled through glass to get Bruce vital information on her capture. _Jason did that,_ he reminded himself.

It was the first time he’d been confronted with the consequences of Jason’s actions, and it was jarring. The rawness of the scars from her ordeal that night were still fading. They’d been stitched up but were torn at because of Barbara’s terrible habit of tearing off scabs. The car accident she’d caused, but she’d only done it to get away from Arkham Knight. The beating she’d subsequently received was all Jason. Barbara told him Scarecrow’s men had done it, but Scarecrow’s men wouldn’t have had access to her if it hadn’t been for Arkham Knight. For Jason.

He remembered how light she had felt in his arms as they fell down the side of the building together, how desperate he’d been to angle his body against the hundred mile wind, and how hard it had been to extend his wings enough to slow their fall and reduce the impact. If Jason had never taken her, none of that would have happened. Barbara would have sat in her Watchtower all night through, and Jim would never have been kidnapped.

“How are you, Barbara?” Bruce asked. “After that night–”

“I’m okay,” Barbara said, rubbing her arms so that the cotton sleeves of her shirt covered the scars. Tim gripped her hand, and with the other, he rubbed at his chest.

If Jason had never become the Knight, Tim would never have been shot. If he had died, Bruce wasn’t quite sure if he could have been so forgiving or understanding. He may have tried, but things would have been different. Vastly different. “What about you, Tim?” Bruce asked evenly, trying not to arouse suspicion. “You were at a board meeting five hours after you got shot.”

Tim shook his head. “Leslie got the bullet out before sunrise, and Wayne Enterprises wanted Dick and I there. I’ve had worse.”

Bruce wanted to see it. To make sure it was okay and apologise to Tim for not being there, but Dick moved and caught his attention. His eldest was still outside. He’d stop pacing, but was leaning on the balcony and staring into the distance. Something wasn’t right with him, or with the way he was posturing himself and Bruce had a feeling in his gut like the one he did that morning with Jason.

“Do you know who he is? The Arkham Knight?” Tim asked, creeping back to a conversation he didn’t want to have. “Babs has been trying to track him down since that night, but she couldn’t find a trace of him since Killinger’s.”

“It’s like he never existed,” Barbara added.

Bruce considered the eggs on the table as she spoke. _Well, he cooked those,_ he thought to himself but wouldn’t say it out loud. He looked back up at Dick and stood up. Dick was shaking. “Excuse me,” he said. He strode across the room with mounting urgency, reaching the balcony and throwing open the door. Dick glared at him and wiped the stray tears falling down the side of his face.

“I came out here to get away from you,” Dick snarled, wiping at his face.

Bruce didn’t even flinch. The first few weeks of being around Jason again were filled with snarls and growls, and after all the nightmares and dragging feet from one side of the room to the other, he was missing it. “I wish I could explain this to you in a way that wouldn’t hurt, but I can’t. I’m sorry it had to be this way. I didn’t mean it to be.”

Dick shook his head and laced his fingers behind his head, pressing on his scalp like he was trying to ward off a migraine. “I don’t care.” He stood up straight and looked Bruce in the eye, just like Bruce had taught him to.

“When you want to make a point,” Bruce had said to a nine-year-old Dick. “You stand up straight.” Dick raised his head up. “Put your shoulders back.” He comically rolled his shoulders back and looked as if he was about to attempt to limbo under something. Bruce put his hand between his shoulders and straightened him up. “Make your chest a square, and hold your most serious look on your face.” Dick squinted his eyes and schooled his features into a glare. “Then you look that person in the eye,” Bruce said, kneeling in front of him, so they were face to face. “And you tell them clearly without umming or ahhing, what you need to say.”

“I’ve been by your side for fifteen years, Bruce,” Dick said in the present. He looked Bruce up and down, shaking his head in disgust as if he almost couldn’t believe he was in front of him. “I thought that would have meant something by now.”

“Dick.” Bruce reached out to grab his arm, but Dick pulled away and went back inside and left the house altogether. Bruce sighed and leant back on the balcony. He had most of his family in the living room behind him, but he hadn’t felt so alone in a long while.

* * *

Jason watched Selina walk by him thirty feet away for the third time. He dragged his collar up around his neck and trying to stop his teeth from chattering. Wearing a large jacket on the beach would be a dead giveaway of who he was, so he braced his stubbornly cold system and tried to absorb some heat through the sun.

Despite his careful planning, Catwoman was a much better tracker than he’d thought. She’d realised at some point that Jason had turned back to Mazatlán and hidden in a resort until everything blew over. What she didn’t know about was the strange collection of wigs, fake beards and other disguises Talia had stored in a wardrobe upstairs and how he’d taken a bright red one and a clean-cut polo shirt and shorts to keep himself hidden.

Now Jason looked like every other tourist in Mazatlán, and by the time Selina figured he’d bought a ticket using a fake name and a fake account, his plane to Norway via London would be ready to board. He had a safe house in Norway that he’d set up in case everything went wrong with Bruce and from there, he could travel unnoticed to wherever he wanted to eventually settle.

He looked over his shoulder in the direction of the house. He figured the reason why it was Selina and not Bruce he was seeing was that Bruce had his hands full with Dick Grayson.

His heart panged.

 _Think about the shit he put you through when you first became Robin,_ Jason told himself.

There had been a lot of shit.

A lot of name calling and fist fights. Some of it had been spurred on by Jason’s willingness to erupt into an argument over everything from who got to sit in the front seat to who took the better photo at the gala. Dick’s natural ability to be liked hadn’t helped any. Jason had liked him straight away, but he was envious too, of the way he effortlessly blended into every situation was put in. Not to mention the fact that Dick had insisted on training him to be Robin and his version of training had been punishing. He knocked down Jason more times that Bruce had just to prove he could and wasn’t satisfied until Jason could knock him back.

The competitiveness between them had been so terrible at one point that _Alfred_ had kicked them out of the Manor and sent them to Ma and Pa Kent until they learnt to get along, overruling even Bruce when he’d argued otherwise. He drove them to the farm in the middle of the night, and the entire time Jason had thought it was a joke until Alfred left them there for three days straight. Jason had been so horrified by the fourth morning – having never even considered Alfred, his favourite person in the world would be the one to abandon him – that he freaked and threw himself into the second panic attack of his life.

Dick had found him, lying in bed clutching at his chest, crying his eyes out and had then dragged Jason back to the Manor under his arm the next morning and told Alfred they would cool it with the arguing if Alfred gave Jason a hug. It was the only time Jason felt relieved that Dick had made him hug somebody.

“You know that we’d never actually give you away, Jason,” Bruce whispered to him later that night as the four of them ate dinner. Jason was twelve and was playing with his food sullenly, eyes glazed over. Bruce grabbed his hand. “Alfred and I were talking about it this morning, and we said that if you boys didn’t come back by tonight, he was going to drive to out to Smallville to pick you both up.”

“Really?” Jason asked, his voice filled with disbelief.

Bruce nodded. “This is your home, Jason. You can always come home.”

From then on their relationship did get better, but they still argued and fought, just less intensely, and if they ever broke something they would immediately stop fighting and put all their energy into hiding the evidence from Alfred.

He touched his face where the J-scar was covered up with a little bit of modelling clay and makeup. No doubt, Bruce was telling Dick everything about The Siege and who Jason really was and Dick, in turn, was becoming disgusted and horrified by who his little brother turned out to be. He’d given Jason the ‘We-Do-Not-Kill’ lecture almost as much as Bruce had, and would probably be so disappointed in Jason.

He’d probably hate him.

Jason hated himself.

Every time he turned towards the direction of the house though, all he wanted was to go back. To the house. To Dick. To Bruce. It was like when he was a teenager, and he’d run away to one of his friends’ houses to hide from whatever argument he was having with Bruce that week. The whole time his thoughts had been obsessed with how much he missed the Manor and everyone in it. It was only his own stubborn pride that kept him from returning until someone – Bruce, Dick, Alfred, Selina – told him to go home.

Jason’s phone buzzed. He’d already ditched his other one and got a new burner.

There was an alert that he needed to check-in for his flight.

He swallowed, looking around for Selina one more time. He spotted her, walking back up to her bike, having given up at the beach. With a sigh of relief, he went to his own motorcycle – parked a long way away from where he was hanging out – and got on it, his heavy duffle strapped over his shoulder.

Before he left the beach, he looked back one last time in the direction of the house. _It’s better this way,_ he reminded himself.

He gunned the engine of the bike and took off streaming towards Mazatlán International Airport.

It was still hot, but Jason shivered as the breeze swept over him and he shuddered, the cold sinking into his bones again, warning him about what he was doing.

 _I can’t stay here,_ he told himself again, thinking of the purpling marks around Bruce’s neck. “I’m not safe,” he said out loud, his voice being taken by the winds.

When he got to the airport, he parked the bike in the five-minute parking, not really caring what happened to it once he’d left. _I’m not coming back,_ he reminded himself, over and over and over, like a broken record in his head.

He wiped his face, unable to stop the tears that sprung to them and growled at himself. _I am not a crier. I have never been a crier. Stop crying, Jason Peter Todd._

The airport was easy to get around. It was laid out like any other airport with departures in one half and arrivals in the other. But Jason was trying to avoid being followed so went through Arrivals to get to Departures. He crossed his bag over his body, trying to stick to the crowds when something caught his eye on the far side of the airport.

An older gentleman, in grey slacks, a linen shirt, and a newsboy cap, was holding a vintage suitcase in mint condition not too far away from Jason. He was looking up and down the kiosks lining the airport for something, though Jason couldn’t figure out what.

The tears in his eyes overfilled, and the cold burst into his marrows like an arctic wind and made Jason convulse with a cold snap. He pushed through the crowd urgently, needing to get to the man, who hadn’t seen Jason yet, still searching for the right kiosk.

He got closer, heart pounding in his ears and stomach sick with fear of rejection. Fear of seeing something in those eyes other than love. “Alfie!” Jason called out as he got closer and Alfred Pennyworth startled and looked up over his shoulder, right at Jason, squinting at him in his bright red wig for a moment before realising who it was.

“Jason?” he gasped, so surprised that he hadn’t even said  _Master_. Jason strode towards him, and just as he reached the man, his arms opened wide, and Jason matched his stance and grabbed him fiercely, burying his face into his neck, and the tears flowed without his approval.

“Alfred,” Jason repeated as Alfred held him with a death grip.

“Oh Master Jason,” Alfred laughed wetly, patting Jason’s back and gripping him with his strong bony arms. “It’s good to have you home, my boy.”

 _Home,_ Jason thought to himself, for the first time in forever. _I can go home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah... I threw out so much... But I'm going to try and use some of it still.
> 
> Just so you all know, there will be flashbacks at the beginning of each chapter to the Gala.
> 
> Anyway, tell me what you think!
> 
> Love,  
> ithoughtslashmeanthorror (aka Bianca)


	2. Brothers & Monsters

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh! Okay - I forgot to mention something.
> 
> So I've played the Arkhamverse a few times, but I only finished the 100% recently... even then, I didn't always listen to the tapes. Or sometimes, I'd play until I fell asleep and I'd pass out in the middle of listening to them.
> 
> That being said, I never knew that Jason revealed himself to Barbara until I started doing research for this. And then, I never realised that it was revealed in the tapes, I just thought it was something a fan posted up and it just became a rumour.
> 
> So I wrote this whole plotline out around the fact Barbara has no idea Jason is the Arkham Knight, and then Cerusee - shout out to you - told me it was the audio files.
> 
> Now, I normally try to respect canon as much as I can but... Nope. Cause I already wrote out so much of the plot out and parts of it wouldn't make sense if Barbara had known and NOPE. Not going back now. Can't go back now.
> 
> So the whole Barbara/Jason convo where he reveals himself never happened. Just let it go.

The annual Wayne Charity Gala was the one thing a year Jason and Dick could never back out of. It didn't matter how much they were fighting with each other, or with Bruce, or where they were on a case, or how many robberies were in progress, the boys had an unspoken agreement; they would always attend the gala together, as a family.

It wasn’t that Bruce forced them. They forced themselves.

The first year he’d told them – just like every other gala, dinner, and event – that they didn’t have to go. But Dick, at nine, had loved going to parties with Bruce. It was unlike anything he had seen before at the circus. It was a performance, at the end of the day, but the costumes and the show changed every time.

That was how Dick had found out that the annual Wayne charity gala wasn’t just another party. It was The Martha Wayne Charity Gala for Impoverish Youth, a yearly event to commemorate Martha Wayne’s birthday, and Bruce had spent his life going to it by himself.

It had upset him, and he had promised himself never to miss a night.

Jason hadn’t liked the galas. He didn’t like the way the Gotham elite eyed and prodded him, and he’d been in a mood at the time Martha’s gala had rolled around. Bruce patiently asked him if he wanted to come, and Jason declined. Dick had come home for the weekend of the party, even though he was fighting with Bruce over Jason taking his place as Robin. When he found out Jason wasn’t going to go, Dick swallowed his pride and knocked on Jason’s bedroom door.

“What do you want?” Jason growled from his bed. He moved his headphones down around his neck and laid his book on his stomach. “Come to tell me how hopeless I am?” 

Dick had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at how dramatic he was. Dick had never told Jason he was hopeless. He’d told Wally that Jason was hopeless, but he had been pissed off at the time. “You need to come to the gala tonight.”

“You need to not tell me what to do,” Jason snapped, leaning up, ready for a fight. It was so easy to egg him on.

“It’s Martha Wayne’s birthday, and it’s the charity that she established that throws it,” Dick deadpanned, and Jason’s face fell. “Get up. It’s the only thing you have to go to.”

Without another word, Jason got up. Six years later, Dick liked to think that Jason had replayed through his mind all the times he had missed his mom and how, no matter what was happening at the time, Bruce would take a moment to hold him until the loneliness passed. Or at least, that was what he did for Dick. That was what he’d thought of when he first when he’d heard about the gala.

From then on Jason marked the evening in his calendar and joined Dick wordlessly to support Bruce at an event held in his mother’s memory.

Even Alfred came to the evening, off-duty and dressed in his tuxedo. When they got there, Alfred disappeared with Lucius with the promise of a cigar and Bruce was swept up in the paparazzi leaving Dick, Barbara, and Jason standing in the doorway inspecting the evening.

“Leeches,” Jason complained, glaring at Gotham’s elite. He nudged Dick in his side and nodded to an older gentleman with a potbelly and thick moustache, standing with a prudish looking woman with her hair done in coils. “I know for a fact what charitable acts Mister Weathersby does with the Impoverish Youth down in the Narrows. Now he’s standing here raising money for them.”

Dick elbowed him and glared. “Not tonight, Jay.”

Jason narrowed his eyes at his older brother, rubbing where Dick landed his blow. They had been sniping at each other lately. Or, more accurately, Jason had been bickering with Dick, though the elder wasn’t entirely sure as to why. “They’re just notes for later, Dick,” Barbara said, wrapping an arm around Jason’s shoulders protectively. “And don’t hit him.”

“He hit me!” Dick rolled his eyes, and Jason stuck his tongue out at Dick, happy to be Barbara’s favourite. It sucked. Not that he was Barbara’s favourite – he’d gotten used to that years ago – but that he was acting like an ass towards him. He didn’t want to leave with things tense between them. Not when he wasn’t entirely sure he would be coming back.

“You’re coming back,” Bruce’s voice growled at him in his mind – a memory from the other night when he’d told him his doubts. “That’s why we’re doing this. All of this prepping. Because you are coming back home.”

Leaning against the Batcomputer, Dick had sighed, and Bruce’s lip twitched. “Do you still want to do this? Because if you doubt yourself, I do not want you on this mission.”  

“Want to dance with me, Jay?” Barbara asked, pulling Dick out of his memories.

Jason’s eyes scouted the room, and he habitually fixed his hair as he looked for someone. “Ah, no, Barbs. You and Dickhead are more than welcome to play happy couple tonight.”

Both Barbara and Dick blushed looking away. They were both eighteen and although they had love heart eyes for one another, Barbara was with Luke, Lucius’s son and Dick had been spending a lot of time with Zatanna, one of Barbara’s best friends. Nothing had happened between them, but rumours had spread, and they weren't doing anything to douse them. “We’re not dating,” Dick huffed. “Barb is my friend.”

“Yeah, sure,” Jason said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “And I’m not going ask Ariel Crowne out on a date tonight.” He smacked his older brother in the chest with a wicked grin walked away with a swagger in his step.

Dick and Barbara inched closer to each other, watching Jason walked towards a group of Gotham Academies most popular kids, all gathered around a table away from their parents. Not only that, but she was from one of the five founding families of Gotham, making her the city’s Princess. “Is that why he spent three hours getting ready?” Dick asked.

Barbara nodded. “He is head over heels in love with that girl. I’d hoped it had died a bit by now.”

They both watched Ariel as she chatted effortlessly with those around her, making them laugh and orbit her like planets to the sun. She was gorgeous and funny and popular, but she was also way out of Jason’s league at eighteen and was stuck up enough to care that he wasn’t a Wayne by blood. “He’s going to get his heart broken tonight,” Dick said.

“Into a million and one baby bird pieces,” Barbara sighed.

Dick looked at her properly for a second. She got ready at Wayne Manor because they’d all been out on patrol all day, following up on a murder case while Dick was home. Barbara let her hair fall around her back, the strands curled around her face, and she wore a navy dressed that glittered in the soft light of the gala. It did nothing to dull the green of her eyes or the vividness of her hair. In fact, the navy just made her features brighter.

She looked gorgeous. Not more than usual, but different than usual. Dick thought she looked gorgeous clad in black with her face under a cowl too. Lethally beautiful, but beautiful all the same. _I’m going to miss you,_ he thought to himself, staring at her. His heart broke a little, just watching her and knowing that in a few short weeks, he wouldn’t be able to call her up just to talk.

He smiled and held out his arm to her. “How about we dance nearby and wait for the heartbreak?”

“You know you’re not going to do that,” Barbara said, smiling softly at him. Because he knew her too well. Better than he knew himself.

Dick sighed. “Yeah, I’m not going to do that.” He sat up straight. “I can’t stand around and watch her ruin his little sixteen-year-old life.”

Barbara smiled, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow. “You know, under all that shittiness, you’re a good big brother Dick Grayson.”

“I will never repeat this, but I have grown to care for the kid.”

“Oh no. We’ll definitely keep that one a secret, Boy Wonder.”

* * *

Selina had returned alone. Bruce walked in from the kitchen with a fresh set of coffees at the same time as she walked through the living room. She awkwardly stared at Barbara and Tim and said hi before nodding to Bruce to get him alone. Dick had come back to the house and sat on the lounge, face buried in his hands, and Bruce excused himself leaving the kids alone again.

He went with Selina into the dining room, drawing the sliding doors shut. “Anything?”

“I need the laptop,” Selina said. “He circled back to town, and I have a feeling he was waiting for something. He was on it late last night, so I’m looking for a clue.”

Bruce nodded and went back to the living room, collecting the laptop from the coffee table between the kids. Tim perked up. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“Selina needs it,” he said. “We can keep talking in a minute.”

Tim frowned at Bruce, studying his posture and the way he was guarding himself. He looked around the house and Bruce held his breath as his keen detective eyes studied everything. “When we walked in… you told Selina to ‘bring him back’.” Dick perked up as Tim spoke. He should have known he would notice. Tim noticed everything. “Who was here?”

Bruce clamped his jaw shut. Selina had ducked her head into the living room and was glaring impatiently. “I’ll explain everything. I need to help Selina with something.” He turned his back on them abruptly and went back, closing the doors again. He opened the laptop and started it up impatiently. Once it was open, Selina stole it from him and opened an internet browser.

Of course, Jason had cleared the history. He wasn’t daft, but he’d also wiped the system. “Hold on,” he said, stealing the computer back. “I might be able to do a system restore.”

“That’s what I was about to do,” Selina complained. Bruce shot her a look to warn her, her opinion wasn’t appreciated. He was too out of his mind. He wanted to be out searching for Jason, and he could leave, but that would mean either explaining or hurting his sons and Barbara again.

Jason had wiped the system clear too, making sure there was no trace of what he’d looked up. Bruce would have been proud if he hadn’t been so worried. He closed his eyes and pushed down an impending headache. Tim was retreating into himself, Dick hated him, and Jason was missing. It was five years ago all over again.

“Okay. I’m going to go to the airport,” Selina said, holding out her hand. “Give me your card.”

“Why?”

“I looked at scheduled flights out of the International airport earlier. The only two I could see that went to change over hubs were one to Singapore and another to London. They both leave in the next hour.”

Bruce shook his head. “You’re not going without me.”

“Yes I am,” Selina snapped. She pointed towards the other room. “They need you too. Last time Jason went missing, you neglected those kids so much, their world fell apart twice. This time, we know we know he’s safe at least, so let me find him and bring him home. You make sure they’re okay.”

Bruce had never seen Selina so angry before about Bruce’s parenting. She usually stayed out of it, occasionally imparting words of wisdom before reminding him that she preferred cats. He sighed and took out his wallet and gave it to her. “Charter a plane if you have to. Just bring him home.”

She nodded and with their separate missions, they went back into the living room. Tim and Dick just managed to sit back in their respective seats. They were sometimes still children getting caught with their ear at the door, but they were giving Bruce and Selina matching questioning glares.

But Barbara wasn’t glaring at either of them, choosing instead to stare at the red hooded jacket that was on the bookshelf. Bruce watched her as tears sprung to her eyes and she covered her mouth, looking up at him desperate for an answer.

Selina squeezed Bruce’s hand and nodded to the front door. “I’m leaving now. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Bruce nodded and let Selina go, still staring at Barbara. She was out of the room

“What’s going on, Bruce?” Dick demanded.

“Who are you looking for?” Tim asked.

Bruce closed his eyes. He couldn’t keep it from them. He was stupid to even try because he was certain Barbara had figured it out and it wouldn’t be long until Dick and Tim did too. They were his protégé’s. His partners. He’d trained them all to see the things no one else could.

“I–” he began to speak but was cut off by Selina.

“Bruce! We have guests!”

* * *

The motorbike hadn’t been towed. Jason almost left it there, but Alfred pleaded with him not to develop Bruce’s habit of losing, discarding, and damaging vehicles beyond repair. So Jason drove it back to the house, and Alfred took a taxi and took Jason’s duffle with his gear, armour, clothes, and passport, holding it tight on his lap. He didn’t ask about why he was at the airport, looking like a runaway, or the wig - which was somehow the bigger relief. He felt like an idiot for even trying to wear it and pushed it off his head, letting it fly into the wind.

He didn’t suit being a redhead.

Jason led the taxi through the town and just outside of it, where the house was. He wasn’t even tempted to run. Jason was anxious about what he’d find home - _home, you have a home again_ \- but he wanted to go there. Norway was seclusion, and for the first time in years, Jason didn’t want to be alone. He didn’t feel like he had to anymore.

Of course, when they pulled up in front of the house, doubts kicked him in the balls and made him back away. “Maybe you should just go in,” Jason said.

Alfred raised his eyebrow. “And how, pray tell do I explain how I got past the security?”

“You are an ex-British Military Spy who stalked Nightwing across land and sea to a small relatively obscure city in Mexico. I’m sure you could figure out how to get through the gate without tripping an alarm.”

Alfred fixed him with a pointed glare and held out his bag. Jason took it with a guilty sigh, ducking his head in shame. Only the butler could make him do that. He pulled out his keys at the door – Bruce had given him some on his second or third day there – and slipped the first one in. He barely got to turn it when it opened itself.

He blinked in surprise, face to face with Selina and she looked equally as shocked. Then she was angry, reaching out and hitting him over the head. “Do that again, and I’ll kill you myself.”

“Ow,” he complained, rubbing where her hand had landed a bruise.

“That is the very least you deserve,” she snapped, a finger pointed at his face. “You scared the shit out of us, and I was just booking a flight to Singapore to stalk your ass across the world.” She shoved her phone into her pocket, just to prove her point.

“I was actually going to London,” he said, and Selina rolled her eyes.

“Fifty-fifty shot,” she muttered. Then her demeanour changed and she looked passed Jason to his company. “Hey, Alfred.” Selina stepped aside, letting them in and Jason put Alfred and his own bag down near the front door and nodded for the butler to follow him.

“Bruce!” Selina shouted ahead of their entrance. “We have guests!”

Jason walked through the sitting room and stepped down into the living room ahead of Alfred, and four heads swivelled towards him, two of them drawing quick sharp breaths. Jason was dumbstruck for a moment. He knew Dick was going to be there – he’d texted him – but he hadn’t been counting on Barbara Gordon or Timothy Drake.

 _Oh shit,_ he thought darkly, and he waited, frozen in his mid-step and unsure of what to do. He hadn’t wanted to be alone, but he hadn’t wanted this either. A room filled to the brim with people and all of them staring at him.

Dick stood up, rubbing his face as if Jason was a mirage. The room was silent, and though Jason’s brain was whirring with the unexpected company, he couldn’t drag his eyes away from Dick because of the way Dick was staring at him.

He dragged his feet as he walked to Jason. It was like he was waking up from a long sleep, but his eyes were wide and unblinking. “Jay?” Dick croaked. “H-How?”

Jason felt the heat rise in his cheeks. He couldn’t look the first Robin in the eye. “Hey Dickie,” he said, trying to smile but it came out pained and awkward. He could see Tim and Barbara in his peripherals, but couldn’t focus on them either. He didn’t know where to look, but the decision was made for him when Dick collided with his chest, and Jason’s chin was forced up onto Dick’s shoulder. Chin rested on Dick’s shoulder, Jason locked eyes with Bruce. 

Bruce who looked so damned relieved, sighing and moving his lips silently, thanking whatever deity it was that The Bat believed in. _We're going to talk later,_ his blue eyes said, and Jason swallowed thickly and looked away. 

Jason had been winded when Dick smacked into him, but his brain caught up to his body, and he wrapped his arms around Dick. Softly at first, as if afraid it wasn’t real and then with more might, hoping beyond hope that it wasn’t.

The way he held on, Jason could feel it in his bones how much Dick had missed him. But the longer he held, the more Jason realised he’d missed Dick just as much, Dick’s absence in his life had been like an open wound, or a phantom limb he hadn’t even noticed was gone.

“Jaybird,” Dick squeezed him, feeling him up and down to double check it wasn’t an illusion and began to speak in a long string of garble. “I… how… I-I’m sorry. I should have been-”

“Don’t,” Jason cut him off. _Don’t what? Worry? Blame yourself? Say anything? Make me the victim?_ Jason couldn’t pick. He just slammed his jaw shut.

They stood like that for what felt like forever and, though Jason didn’t want to let go, he also was highly aware of their audience. Their eyes were prickling his skin like stinging nettles, and he wasn’t sure how much more of it he could take.

Dick didn’t let go until Jason patted his back and pulled away. He tucked his chin into his chest and tightened his fist at his sides, trying to pull up the courage to address the other person in the room. “Barbie?” Jason looked over Dick’s shoulder, and there she was.

Just as beautiful as he remembered, her red hair sat on top of her head in a bun and flyaway’s spun around it like fairy floss. One of her gloved hands was holding Tim’s, tightly. Jason frowned the slightest bit, looking between Barbara and Dick and Tim again but chose not to say anything as she let go of her fiancée’s hand to wheel across to him.

He took a step back, involuntarily as his heart rate increased.

She stopped, frowning at him. “Jason?”

His voice stuck in his throat, and he looked desperately at Bruce. Bruce stepped towards him too, but with Dick standing so close, he felt crowded and took yet another step back. He hadn’t known Barbara would be there. Didn’t know that she would follow Dick. He hadn’t planned that far ahead, and he didn’t think he was ready, even though a part of him longed to have her back. Maybe even more than Dick.

He thought about how she felt, struggling over his shoulder that night as he dragged her from the Clocktower. How he had held her on his lap as she expertly caused the car to crash. Coming too and not having her there and a pang of emptiness and betrayal hitting his heart, and the plane tickets to England he’d torn to shreds as soon as he got back to his base. _He betrayed you too!_ He remembered shouting at her, but she hadn’t understood then. He had been so lost in his own mind and in the Joker’s game that he had felt betrayed by her, for not hating Bruce as much as he did. For turning herself into Oracle and helping instead of tearing everything down in her path.

He had wanted an ally, and when she didn’t feel the same way as he did, he hurt her.

Then he remembered it.

The way he’d ripped into her after the car wreck for betraying him. For being Batman’s ally. He squeezed her arm, bruising her wrists and threw her violently into her chair when they got to his hideout. Every little grunt of pain and hiss of anger, every threat that passed through her lips came back to him. She had been scared, but she was still cocky, but he’d threatened her. Frightened her. Handed her over to Scarecrow so he could do God only knows what with her.

Those memories interspersed with the girl Bruce had made him remember. The one who played _Rockin’ Robin_ for him when he was upset and who helped him with homework when going from a street rat to a Private School Student became overwhelming, who shared his bed when he was worried, or scared, or upset, or when he’d just missed her. Jason found himself walking towards the kitchen exit without even realising it, Bruce’s bass and Dick’s still shaking tenor calling out his name. But he was out, jogging across the deck, down the stairs, out the back gate, and on the sand. Running like he was being chased down by the bad guys towards the water. But when the bad guys were his memories, it was harder. Harder to control, harder to face. He couldn’t just beat them down like he could with other things. They were there and plaguing him with feelings The Joker had made him forget.

All the good times that he could only just recall affirmed everything Jason realised the moment Bruce took of his mask at Killinger’s and with loss in his eyes.

_I am the monster._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to reply to your reviews later today... I'm actually on my way to work as I post this...
> 
> HOPE YOU ENJOYED THE DRAWING - I did it ages ago, actually. It came long before the idea of the gala storyline...


	3. The reality of it all

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm soooooo tired. I just finished work, came home and hit 'post chapter'
> 
> It's not edited.
> 
> But it is an emotional rollercoaster.
> 
> Sorry.

Jason only just managed to swerve away from a conversation with Renee Montoya and Kate Kane. He was thrilled his adopted cousin had accepted her sexuality and found love, but Renee had picked Jason up when she was a beat cop, and he was a common thief, and it was always awkward to see the woman who had put him in handcuffs at seven.

He skirted around the edges of the gala, climbing the stairs to get a better vantage from the balcony.

It was held in a grand ballroom at the Royal Hotel.

Everything in the room blushed with hues of gold for the bluebloods of Gotham’s elite. A buffet was too simple for these people, so trays of food spun around the guest’s heads, waiting for them to pick at it. Dinner à la carte would start after the Hor d’Oeuvres, and champagne stopped circling but, in the meantime, the people mingled and gossiped in floor-length gowns. Everyone looked gorgeous, fit for the cover of Vogue magazine.

It sickened Jason sometimes.

He liked the galas as much as he hated them.

The party was fun, and Alfred taught him how to slow dance with girls, so it was a bit of a hot spot for dating. But the upper crust of Gotham put him on edge. Most of them were as bad as the thieves and pimps in Crime Alley and got their hands just as dirty as the mob bosses. Some of them _were_  mob bosses. What annoyed him the most, was the amount of money they poured into the event, was probably only half of what the profits made. He knew Bruce knew that too, and his adopted-father would always top up the donations so that more went to the children in the end, but he shouldn’t have had to.

The part that made his stomach turn even more than the level of crime that gathered in the room, was that Jason remembered how he’d spent his nights around the Royal Hotel after his parents died. He had been the Impoverish Youth that the gala raised funds for and starving, and dirty, and he would be paid to run messages to guests. Sometimes the messages weren’t so friendly; sometimes they were packages filled with God only knew what. He’d go up to rooms, and try and weave quietly through a crowd, but in his ratty jeans and dirty jumper, he stood out in the masses of gorgeous people. Afterwards, he would jump in the bins out the back, giving up his dignity to eat the scraps that the party would leave behind. The hotel was an excellent place to scavenge for scraps from the bin, and Jason had been starving once upon a time. His neighbour Tommy - a young prostitute - had worked one of the gala evenings. Maybe not Martha Wayne's one - Jason hadn’t known that the parties had titles back then - but one of the fancier ones in the hotel. He half wondered if there were any _Impoverish Youth_ _’s_ awaiting any gala guests in the upstairs at that very moment.

He shivered.

If it weren’t for the fact it was for Bruce’s mother, he wouldn’t ever go to any gala held at the Royal Hotel again. He hated it there, more than he hated any other venue in Gotham. Although, that evening there was one exciting bonus.

Jason looked around the gala and spotted Ariel Crowne on the opposite side of the room.

He smiled, maybe a little goofily, all his angst for the evening melting away.

Ariel was gorgeous.

She was tall – taller than Jason even – with long blonde hair and long legs and an angelic face that belonged in a fairy tale. He was in love with her. He had been since Bruce forced him to accept Gotham Academy’s offer for Jason to be accelerated in English and History. He was in the senior classes with Barbara and Ariel and loved every second of time that he got to spend _near_  Ariel.

“Dick would not approve of this,” Barbara told Jason once when she’d had to wake him from a daydream.

“Dick doesn’t get a say,” Jason retorted. 

Dick should have been a senior too, with them, but Jason was glad he wasn’t. The elder brother had gotten his GED the previous year and moved to Blüdhaven to be its permanent hero. He joined the police force as soon as he turned eighteen, despite Bruce’s pleas that he go to Gotham University.

“Hey, Jay,” Dick said, sliding up beside him.

 _Speak of the devil,_ Jason found himself rolling his eyes and looked at the glass of champagne in Dick’s hand. “You’re eighteen,” Jason said, nodded to the glass.

“Yeah, because you haven’t had two since you got in.”

Jason grumbled. He thought he’d managed to keep that well-hidden and now if Dick had noticed there was no doubt Bruce had too. “I needed some liquid courage.”

“To ask out Ariel?”

Jason nodded, leaning over the balcony just the slightest bit to see her. She had on one of those glittery, shimmery scarves, that didn’t keep anyone warm and draped over lady’s necks from the front. It was in white with golden crystals stitched into the lining, and her dress was the same shimmery sheer material. She looked like an angel. Or a Princess. Or both. The Princess of the Angels.

“You really like her, huh?” Dick sighed, slinging his arm over Jason’s shoulder. Jason half wanted to shake Dick off. He’d been avoiding the Golden Child for some time now. Mostly out of annoyance of being treated like a little kid.

He knew Dick and Bruce were working together again, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t bother him.

Jason was Robin, and Dick had given that up. He knew it was a sore point, but the fact was, _Robin_ was Batman’s partner, not Nightwing. So whatever mission Bruce was working on with him - because he couldn’t access anything that told him _what_  they were doing - should have been Jason’s. The fact that they were trying to hide it from him was even worse.

He tried to push that aside for the night. It was the one gala of the year that they weren’t allowed to fight. It was for Bruce’s mother, and not even a damn mission could disturb the evening. _Thems the rules,_  he reminded himself.

“She promised to dance with me tonight,” Jason said, deciding not to shrug Dick off. “We’re studying Romeo and Juliet, and we watched the movie. She said she wanted to dance with a guy, just like that and I told her I knew how. She said she’d save me a dance at the gala.”

Dick smiled, huffing quietly. He squeezed Jason’s shoulder lightly. “So are you going to ask her telepathically?”

Jason held back a retort, eyes focused on the way she tilted her head back as she laughed. “I’ve never asked a girl to dance before.”

Dick laughed, but shut up when he realised Jason was serious. He lowered his voice. “You and Donna were together for ages, and you never asked her to dance?”

Jason and Donna never went dancing. Or out. Their time together was spent at the Manor, her apartment or either of their quarters at Titan Tower – hers usually because Jason rarely spent time at Titan Tower and it was easier for him to take in his overnight bag than her to shuffle around her wardrobe. “It wasn’t that kind of a relationship,” Jason said diplomatically as he always did when it came to Donna and Dick. He never spoke about Donna to Dick, or vice-versa because his older brother had, had an issue with them dating from the get-go, and like Jason was Barbara’s favourite, Dick was definitely Donna’s. Jason didn’t even tell his brother why they broke up – Donna had started to see her college professor and Jason found out through Roy Harper in a text message when she stopped taking all of Jason’s calls.

He didn’t ever ask Dick why he didn’t tell her. He didn’t want to know why he hadn’t.

Then again, there were a lot of things Dick hid from him.

“I don’t want to know,” Dick said, and he squeezed Jason shoulder. “Look, I don’t want you to get mad at me for saying this; dancing is fine and all, but I don’t think you should ask Ariel out tonight.”

Jason bristled and pulled away from his arm. “Why not?”

Dick hesitated. Now he was trying to sound diplomatic. “I don’t think she’s your type.”

“What? Pretty? Smart? Nice?”

“I don’t think she’s nice, Jaybird,” Dick said gently.

“How would you know what she’s like, _Dickiebird_?” Jason scoffed at his adopted-brother, glaring at him incredulously. Dick hesitated again, and it dawned on Jason exactly how Dick knew her. “No,” he groaned in disbelief. “No, don’t tell me you slept with her.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you that then.” Dick tried to joke with him, but Jason wasn’t having it.

“Jesus Christ, Dick. Which girl haven’t you introduced to Little Dick?” he hissed under his breath, momentarily forgetting what night it was. He looked back at Ariel, wilting a little. She had been with Dick. There was no doubt in Jason’s mind that he would kill for Dick. But that didn’t stop the competition between them.

Dick grabbed his arm, forcing him to look at him. “Okay, now you’re acting like an asshole. Look, I didn’t realise you were going to have a crush on her two years later. I’m not a psychic.”

“Just leave some girls alone,” Jason growled, shoving him in the gut. “Seriously, it’s bad enough they call me ‘Dick Grayson’s brother’ at school. I really like her!”

Dick’s face pinched into a mixture of annoyance and sadness. “Jay, I _am_ sorry about that. And I will provide you with a full list of all the girls I’ve slept with for your future knowledge. But it’s probably for the best. She’s really not that nice.”

 _For the best?_ Jason frowned at Dick and realised what he was saying. “You think I’m not going to ask her out because you’ve already dated her?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t that kind of relationship,” he parroted back at Jason.

Jason made a face and shoved him in the chest again. “You really are a dick, Dickhead. I’m asking Ariel out. I don’t care that she’s slept with you. That was her bad luck. I’m asking her out tonight, and I don’t care what you say.” He left Dick and went for the stairs, jogging down them to get as far away from him as possible.

Sometimes Jason hated having a brother.

* * *

Bruce flinched when Jason left, and it took Dick all of ten seconds to run and chase him out of the house. “Dick!” Bruce went to follow them both, but Selina slid in front of him and put her hand on his chest. “Let me handle it,” she said, and then stalked after the boys.

Bruce was getting frustrated with her continually pushing him out of the way of Jason, but he lifted his hand up to his throat and rubbed the tender skin without thinking about it. He knew why she was inserting herself between them.

Selina was trying to protect Bruce and Jason from each other.

The room was silent when the balcony door closed and until Tim started to laugh.

It was quiet at first, and Bruce looked over his shoulder at his youngest, with a concerned brow raised, as Barbara did the same. Alfred was in the doorway to the sitting room utterly baffled.

“I’m sorry but,” Tim snorted, covering his mouth as he tried to stifle his laughter. He pointed at Bruce. “You’re alive.” He pointed to Alfred. “You’re also alive. Now _Jason_ is alive. The deadest one of them all. I mean… come on. This is… this is… I mean, who else has faked their death? I mean, you’ve always suspected Willis Todd faked his death. What about Dick’s parents? _The Joker_ …”

“Tim,” Barbara said, grabbing his hand. The look she was giving Tim was worrying. It was something between concern and anger. She was trying not to give it away, but Bruce knew his protégé’s better than he knew himself. Something was wrong between them. “It’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not,” he agreed, still chuckling. “It’s ridiculous. I’ve been to three funerals for living people. Three. I mean, it’s shocking if you’ve done it once, but three times? It’s a little overdramatic, don’t you think?”

“Tim!” Barbara snapped, more urgently.

“I mean,” he went on, still snickering. “It’s ridiculous!”

Barbara pulled her hand away from his and tucked it on her lap. “You’re acting ridiculous.”

Tim rolled his eyes, and moved his hand back through his hair, slicking it back against his head. “I need to breathe,” he said, then turn on his heel and went out to the balcony, despite Alfred’s abortive plea for him to stay.

Bruce stared at his back as he closed the door behind him and leant over the railing, staring out the view of the town. He could see Tim’s shoulders were still shaking with laughter, but he clutched his hair like he was in pain.

Bruce closed his eyes, his chest aching at the sight. “He’s not sleeping?” He wasn’t looking for an answer. He already knew it.

Barbara supplied it for him anyway. “If he does, it's nightmares. We’ve been up against it before, but the night of The Siege, losing you. He’s just not been… right.”

The guilt kept compounding, and Bruce wasn’t confident how he was going to come up from underneath it, or if he ever could at all. He’d worked through guilt before, though. He could do it again.

“So I’m going to go out on a limb here, but I’m pretty sure I’m right.” Barbara turned her back to Tim, and looked up at Bruce, physically compartmentalising the issues at hand “Jason is the Arkham Knight.”

“Was. Not anymore,” Bruce replied softly.

Barbara looked as if she was about to be sick, and turned her head to look out at Tim, lost. Alfred walked over to Barbara, resting a hand on her shoulder. “It’s a lot to take in, Miss Barbara. How about I make us all some tea?”

Barbara laughed weakly and looked up at Alfred. “Alfie, you just came back to life.”

“And not a moment too soon,” Alfred said dryly, eyeing Bruce. “I believe someone should have called me sooner.”

“I had it handled,” Bruce replied.

“I found Jason at the airport, with luggage,” Alfred said, and Bruce felt like a scolded child. Alfred looked down at the cold breakfast on the table. “He made this?”

Bruce looked at the cold plate. “Yeah.”

Alfred picked up the plate and inspected it. “A waste, Master Bruce. I’m going to heat it up as the plane food was underwhelming, to say the least.” It was his subtle pointed look that added the _talk to her,_ and really, he didn’t deserve Alfred. The former butler patted Barbara on the shoulder, and the two of them were left to stare at each other.

And stare.

And stare some more.

Bruce sighed, tilting his head down and sat on the couch, realising he had to be the adults. “He’s not going to kill us,” Bruce said.

“So that’s not a lingering bruise around your neck?” she retorted.

Bruce shook his head. “He’s not in a good place.”

“None of us are,” Barbara countered. “Thanks to him. He _kidnapped_ me.”

Bruce nodded. “To be perfectly honest, that was the least of his crimes.”

Barbara stared at Bruce, her mouth agape. He could see the gears ticking in her brain, making the logical leaps Jim and Bruce had taught her how to jump, coming to her own conclusions…

But still missing, _so_ much.

“Tell me everything,” she said. “From the beginning.”

Bruce nodded. “Okay.” He looked out to the balcony. “But maybe, we should get Tim.

* * *

Jason didn’t go far.

Just to the water.

His feet started to press into the wet sand when his leg, aching from being up and moving so much all day, almost gave out. He really had to find out what the hell was wrong with it. Usually, he would have healed by now, but it still jarred every time he twisted the bone at his hip too far.

He rubbed his face, pulling off the modelling clay. It mostly came off, revealing the J on his cheek again. It had been annoyingly tight on his skin all day, and he was glad it was gone. It was better to show it. Better to wear the ugliness on his skin.

“Jason!”

Jason looked over his shoulder and cursed. Of course, Dick was following him. Of course, the idiot would think it smart to _chase_ him.

Years ago, it would have made him happy. That Dick Grayson cared enough to follow him out of a room. It had been a novelty for a long while to have anyone care about him, let alone someone so enigmatic, but now he just needed to be alone. “Please, go,” Jason said beneath his breath, too quiet for anyone to hear. But he sat down at made no attempt to run further.

Dick caught up, panting, and stood above him, staring down. His mouth hung open and his eyes were covered in shadows from a lack of sleep. “Don’t go,” he said, countering everything Jason wanted at that moment. He forgot how annoying Dick could be. How he wanted to _talk_ about everything and pull apart his feelings. Dick could do it too, without asking a single question, and without Jason saying a single word. Dick could talk for hours, pulling Jason’s feelings out like teeth, and leave him feeling raw. In the long run, he always felt better having talked it through with Dick, but at first, it _sucked_. “I mean… I mean, what are you…? Where have you…? What happened?”

Jason closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands. He couldn’t deal with bewildered guilty Dick. He had a hard enough time doing it when he was young and confident, but now it was impossible.

A body warmed his side, and Jason realised Dick had sat down next to him, shoulder to shoulder and though his voice was trembling as he spoke, he had calmed himself. “Okay, I’m sorry. Just… give me one second. I mean… I thought you, and Bruce, and Alfred…”

“I know,” Jason croaked. He tried to be sympathetic as to how crazy it must have been for the first Robin, but he was struggling with something himself. His guilt over what he’d done was back at full force, and he reached into his back pocket for the cigarettes he’d stashed there earlier and brought one up to his lips.

He lit it up, and Dick laughed breathlessly. “I forgot you smoked.”

With the nicotine expanding his lungs, he was finally able to breathe. He cast a sidelong look at Dick, from where his head hung between his legs, and cleared his throat. “I had quit,” he admitted, but his eyes found focus on Dick’s face and features.

He looked older.

The last time he’d seen Dick, he had been nineteen and training to be an officer in the BCPD. He was supposed to graduate in a few months, and though he was at the top of his class, he still looked like a kid in uniform. Jason used to joke he could be a nark in 21 Jump Street.

But now there was no mistaking Dick was a man. He wasn’t a twenty-four-year-old who could pass for a high schooler in a TV show. He was too broad and defined, and looked maybe even older than he was, with a weary gaze that came with being heavy with burdens. He had a cut on his cheek, he realised, and he was sitting as if he was holding his chest steady and Jason frowned. He wanted to ask what had happened to him, but the words caught in his throat.

Dick moved his arm tentatively and, when Jason didn’t move, wrapped his warm, strong limb around Jason’s shoulder. “I have missed you so much,” Dick said, exhaling what seemed like a lifetime of bated breath as he spoke. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Jason closed his eyes and reminded himself he could have been on his way to Norway. _No. I don’t want that. I just don’t want this either._ “Dick I… I’m not… you shouldn’t be _happy_ to see me.”

“Jason. All I’ve wanted for _five_ years is to see you.” Dick tightened his hold on Jason, but Jason pushed him away and stood up.

“Yeah? Well, I’ve seen you!” Jason shouted, cigarette smoke billowing from his lips. He was pressing the stick between his fingers, unable to stop himself from holding just a _little_ _too tight_.

Dick froze, and looked up at him, back to bewildered. “What?”

“I’ve seen you dozens of times. I’ve stalked you. And Bruce. And your other brother _Tim_ ,” Jason pointed up to the mansion and couldn’t stop the venom sliding into his voice. He quickly pulled the cigarette back to his lips so he could inhale more, nicotine becoming the oxygen he needed to confess. Dick just stared at Jason like a lost child.

Suddenly, he needed Dick to hate him. To hate him. To hit him. To fight him. “I’m… I’m the Arkham Knight,” Jason bellowed, tears reaching his throat. He growled in frustration, clearing them out. He didn’t deserve to cry. “I _am_ the Arkham Knight. I killed a lot of people to become the Arkham Knight. I almost killed Tim. I almost killed you. I hired a contract with Deathstroke to distract you two. Then I sat up on a building and watched you get your ass kicked.”

Jason couldn’t help but think those were simpler times. Times when he didn’t feel like shit all the time. There was something to be said for having a lack of feelings and being tortured to the point of not caring.

Not caring was great.

Dick, however, did care. He stared at Jason, a dumbstruck expression on his face, his jaw wide open. He blinked and squeezed his eyes shut, his mind no doubt catching up with things. “That’s how the Knight got into the comms…”

“And how you ended up in Gotham all the way from ‘Haven on the night of the Siege,” Jason said. “I mean, who sticks to their scheduled gun drop-offs while a maniac is threatening to blow up the city? Penguin was crazy, but he wasn’t an idiot. I made him.”

Dick frowned, obviously having wondered the same thing at some point. “You kidnapped Babs.”

Jason nodded. “And Selina,” he added, voice still too loud. If anyone was on the beach, recording his confession, they had all the evidence they needed to throw him to Blackgate. “I ordered an attack on Lucius by Hush and got convinced a serial killer to start his next spree in Gotham. I did it all, Dickiebird.”

Dick swallowed. “Scarecrow was working for you,” he said, voice wavering but stronger than it had been.

Jason nodded. “Fifty-fifty. He had his own plans, and I didn’t care who I hurt as long as I got to kill Bruce and to kill Bruce I had to make him go crazy trying to keep you all safe. I planned it all, down the speech I’d say when I finally took him out.”

 _This is justice. This is what you deserve._ Jason closed his eyes to drown out the words in his head, and sucked in the rest of the nicotine, finishing the cigarette down to the yellow. Now, this was justice, and this was what he wanted for himself. For Dick to rage at him. For Dick to hate him. For everyone to hate him.

With his last exhale of smoke, his energy left him. He slumped and pressed his fist to his eyes, trying to press the tears out. “I fucked up, Dick,” Jason murmured. “I fucked up, and I don’t even… I don’t know what happened anymore. I can’t remember what happened.” Jason shook his head and pulled his fists back, opening his eyes and looked down at him. “I shouldn’t have come back. I shouldn’t have texted you. I should have just left, and let you think I was dead. I…”

He had nothing left to say. Every word he tried to make stuck in his throat, and he shook his head again, and away from Dick, going to the water. He pulled out another cigarette and lit it up, staring at the horizon and wondering if he should just walk in. Dive under, have a panic attack and have it all be done with. It would be easier that way.

Halfway through his cigarette, Dick stood up behind him. Jason could hear him moving. He braced himself for a punch or a blow that would knock him forward into the water.  He deserved it so much that he didn’t brace to defend himself. “Why?” Dick demanded instead, and it hit him harder than any punch of throw could. Jason froze and didn’t move. “Why would you do that to us? Why would you betray us?”

Jason shook his head. “I don’t know.”

“Jason.” Dick had forgotten Jason smoked, but Jason had forgotten that Dick had that _voice_. The voice that was more _father_ than _brother_. It spoke his name like a command, and it made him sound like Bruce. “I am trying to understand. Help me understand.”

Jason couldn’t pick where to start. He cleared his throat and decided to try with the one thing he knew for certain. “I hate Bruce,” he croaked.

Dick frowned. “You hate Bruce, so you tried to kill us then came her to live with him?”

Jason nodded, then shook his head. “I don’t know if I hate Bruce.”

“You’re making no sense.”

It didn’t make sense. Jason wasn’t sure of everything in his mind. He didn’t know when things switched from _Bruce is the only good_ to _Bruce is everything that’s bad in this world_. “I know,” he replied softly, and they both stood there, absorbing Jason’s words. Jason shook his head and finished his second cigarette, flicking the bud off into the waves.

He didn’t hear Dick move the second time. Either he wasn’t paying attention, or Dick had put his ninja skills to use, but the hand on his arm startled him out of his skin, and he stepped one foot too far forward into the water, soaking his sneakers.

Dick ignored that, and carefully turned Jason until they were eye to eye – and they _were_ eye to eye. Dick had been a little taller than Jason before he left, but now Jason might have been a little taller than Dick, or it was the way they were position on the beach, but either way, things were _different._

Dick kept holding his arm and moved his hand to the edge of Jason’s wrist. He rolled up the sleeve of the loose cardigan he’d put back on, up his arm, revealing the scars he retained from Joker. There had been more. Some of them had healed better than others and disappeared, but most of them had been carved into his skin with the intention of marking him permanently.

Jason watched as Dick run his fingers over the scars starting at his wrist and ending where the rolled-up sleeve grew too tight to budge around his bicep. He lightly dusted some, but pressed into others, mapping them out across his skin and into his muscle. 

Jason didn’t often think about them anymore. The ropey whips, the warped burns, and the raised keloids were just a part of his skin at that point. But he still couldn’t help the way his chest rose and fell noticeably as Dick trailed his fingers up to his neck, and gently pushed his face to the side, so he could see the J.

Tears pricked the back of Jason’s eyes as Dick ran his thumb over the J. “How long did Joker have you?”

Jason didn’t reply straight away, watching Dick’s eyes dart between the scars and his face. He swallowed down more tears and shakily whispered, “Eighteen months.”

Dick closed his eyes, not removing his hold and taking a deep breath. “I looked _everywhere_ ,” he breathed.

“Not in Arkham,” Jason replied hollowly, and Dick’s eyes snapped back open as he stared at Jason in horror.

“ _Where?_ ” he choked.

Jason shrugged, ignoring the way Dick’s nails scraped his jaw as he tightened his grip on Jason’s face. “There was an old abandoned part of the facility, deeper underground.”

Dick shook his head and released Jason, only to take a step away. Away from Jason, away from his scars, and away from the knowledge he had been right under his nose. There was a long moment when Dick was just _thinking_. Going through it all in his head, and most probably wishing he could go back. He knew Dick, and he could run through his failures even more viciously than Bruce. “You should have found me,” Dick croaked. “When you got out. You should have told me it was you. I would have… I would have helped you, Jason.”

Jason had no doubt in his mind he would have. But he hadn’t been in the mental state to make reasonable decisions like that. “I wasn’t thinking straight. I haven’t been thinking straight. Not for years.”

Dick stepped in closer to Jason and at first, Jason flinched, thinking his fist was coming for him. But the hand he raised went around his back and dragged Jason’s cheek to his shoulder, just like before and, without thinking, Jason slipped his arms around Dick’s waist, and he hung on. He held on, and didn’t know he was crying until Dick’s hand in his hair started to move. Didn’t realise Dick was crying until he felt the tears on his shoulder. Didn’t know how long they were standing there until he lost feeling in legs, and arms, yet still felt enough to know he was encased. “It’s alright, baby bird. You’re alright.”

No one had called Jason that it years, and it made Jason shiver to hear Dick use it to convince himself Jason was still just Jason. “I’m sorry,” Jason said, tears grabbing at his throat again, but the words rushing out in a heap. “Dick, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, I’m–”

“Shush,” Dick settled him the moment his apologies tipped to the side of hysterical. “It’s okay. We’re okay.”

Dick settled the back down onto the sand, and Jason ended up mostly across Dick’s chest, and Dick ended up mostly around his back, chin on Jason’s head, Jason’s arms around Dick’s waist, and their bodies so tightly intertwined that parts of them blurred into one. Dick wouldn’t let go of Jason from his vice grip, and Jason didn’t try and push him off like he would have as a kid. He kept his head tucked under the elder’s chin, grateful for every second Dick didn’t push Jason away.

Jason began to frown when Dick’s hand – as long as Selina’s, as strong and Bruce’s - played with the ends. He wasn’t sure when that had started feeling so good. Maybe when it became the only part of his body that wasn’t scarred. But Dick kept his words skimming over the top of Jason’s head. “It’ll take me a while to get my head around… Around _all_ of this. And… and I’m going to be stupidly happy sometimes, and I’m going to be really mad at you other times. I’m going to have questions. We _will_ argue because face it. It’s us.” Jason couldn’t help but smile as Dick chuckled. “But God, Little Wing. I missed you so much that… that you could try killing me right now and I wouldn’t leave. I can’t. I won’t leave you again.”

He mostly spoke into Jason’s hair, his breath warming Jason’s scalp, and everything inside of him fizzled and popped with a warmth he had forgotten about. The warmth of having a brother who did really love him, and fought back to back with him when their father was acting parental or when the villains were ganging up. Watching Tim and Dick fight together during his time spying on the Batfamily had made him long for that again, but he should never have punished them for it.

It wasn’t their fault.

 _Mine,_ he thought. _It’s just mine._

“Dick,” Jason’s mouth formed the words. To apologise. To tell him he regretted everything. All the fights he’d organised with Slade. All the destruction he’d wreaked on Gotham. He heard what Penguin had done to him, and he felt guilty for that too. For hiring him and _knowing_ the guns would lead a trail from Blüdhaven. He was a part of the plan to distract Bruce, and Jason had used him. But the sounds wouldn’t come out, the words too thick for his tongue to wrap around. Dick shook his head, and Jason didn’t so much see it as feel it on his own.

“It’s okay, Jay. You don’t have to say anything. The good, the bad… We’ll figure it out. But not tonight.” Dick’s words, spoken against his skin, sealed into the scars that were hidden beneath the muscle and filled the gaps. Made things smooth again in some places. Made them bearable in others. Softened the sharpened edges. “Tonight… I’m just happy you’re here, Little Wing.”

Trapped in the basement of Arkham, Jason had imagined many times being saved in thousands of different possible scenarios, and sometimes, Dick was in them. When he dreamt of Bruce _and_ Dick rescuing him, Dick would always be the one to hold him up while Bruce cleared the way. He had vividly imagined the bend of Dick’s elbow tucked around Jason’s waist and the spandex-Kevlar blend of his suit pressed against his cheek. Sometimes he’d convinced himself it was real in his dreams and when he woke up, could still feel Dick’s thumb rubbing Jason’s arm as he held him.

The reality happened different - worse, terrifyingly horribly different. But leaning against Dick and being held in one of his tight holds, his thumb tracing his bicep... Well, it felt so much better than his imagination had ever dreamed up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Dick... I know how that sounds.
> 
> Stop laughing.


	4. Walk Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need a new job.
> 
> If I could get paid to just write, I would.
> 
> If you are under 18 and are praying for the day you become an adult - stop.
> 
> Adulting sucks.

I Sometimes Dick wanted to punch Jason.

Not just because he was an annoying little twerp who stole Dick’s jacket when he wasn’t at home or who always managed to get an extra pancake slice even when Alfred made precisely even portions, _and_ it was Dick’s birthday. Not just because he was brash, quick to temper, and argumentative. Not _just_ because he was his brother.

It was because sometimes, Jason was his own worst enemy and no matter what Dick, Bruce, Alfred or even Barbara said, his stubborn pride got him into more dangerous situations than his intelligent brain did.

From the balcony of the Wayne Gala, Dick watched Jason approach Ariel Crowne, the belle of every ball. He rolled his eyes.

It wasn’t often that Dick regretted a hookup, but Ariel was an exception. “So you didn’t tell him, huh?” Barbara said, sliding up to Dick.

Dick glared at Barbara from the side of his eye. “He called me a whore.”

“Well if the tights fit,” Barbara breathed. Dick narrowed his eyes at her. “I’m joking… a little. But really, who haven’t you slept with?”

“You,” he countered. “But we did date for two years, so I maybe that doesn’t count.”

It was Barbara’s turn to glare. “Down, Dickie. Before I have to tell Z.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Z and I aren’t dating. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you and Jason that.”

“Jason said she slept over the other night.”

Dick found himself smiling cheekily. “Using my little brother to spy on me, Barbie? That’s low.”

Barbara smacked him in the arm. “You can’t flirt with me while we’re both seeing other people.”

“Only _you_ are seeing other people. Zatanna was having a rough night and didn’t want to be alone. We shared a bed, but not DNA. You can text her now if you don’t believe me.”

Barbara set her jaw in a hard line, glaring at Dick as though she was considering doing just that. But, she thought better of it a moment later. “Don’t lie and say you haven’t… _swapped DNA_ with Z.”

Dick shrugged. “It doesn’t mean anything. We’re both single, and adults. Sex doesn’t always have to mean something.”

Barbara glared at him. “Well considering you lost your virginity to your cousin, I shouldn’t be surprised,” she dug at him.

“Adopted-second-cousin. And she was technically just my babysitter at the time. Only got adopted a few weeks later. Legally, ethically, and morally, we were all in the clear.” Dick was grinning again because he knew the story made Barbara uncomfortable on many levels, but at thirteen, having fifteen-year-old Bette Kane interested in him was heaven sent.

Barbara continued to glare at him, cheeks flushed. “This is stupid. We’re making this about us. Your brother is now dancing with a horrible person who is going to be mean to him, and there’s nothing either of us can do now to stop him.”

Barbara was right. On the dancefloor, taking up much of the attention of the gala were Jason and Ariel.

Jason was a great dancer. Dick slumped further over the bars of the balcony as he watched him expertly move Ariel in a waltz Alfred probably taught him. “Look at her,” Dick muttered. “The devil wrapped in white taffeta.”

“That’s silk,” Barbara replied, matching his stance. They both watched for a minute as Jason twirled Ariel around, keeping her balanced and poised with gentle guidance. Dick glanced at Barbara and felt a pang of jealousy. He wanted to go down and dance with her. They had broken up, and they had become friends again, but the decision wasn’t mutual. He pushed those thoughts aside. “Why didn’t you just tell him what she did to you?” Barbara asked.

Dick made a face. “Jason’s a lot more sensitive about that kind of stuff than I am. I got over it the next day, but he is going to brood, even if I tell her what she did. So I can’t just _tell_ him.”

Barbara huffed. “You _should_ be more sensitive about those things.” When Dick shot her a look, Barbara grumbled. “ _Sex_. It’s not just for fun, you know.”

Dick looked at her, mildly amused at the way her cheeks burnt red. So she _wasn’t_ over that conversation. “But it can be for fun. It can be just for pleasure. You can use sex to ward off a migraine.” He waggled his eyebrows at Barbara, back to flirting again. “It’s an _instant_ pain relief.”

“It is not,” she mumbled, staring down at her hands.

“It’s close enough.” Dick slipped closer to Barbara, their elbows touching over the railing. “Sex can be for deep loving feelings. But sometimes it’s just good because… for a minute you don’t feel alone in the world.” He held his face close to hers. Closer than they had been in a long time.

Barbara stared up at him, eyes twinkling but glanced away as if to search for something else. She was opening her mouth to say something to him when something in the crowd caught her eye. Her face melted into a look of fury. “Oh my God, I’m going to kill him.” She stood up, collecting her skirts in her hand so she could move faster.

Dick stood, ramrod straight, suddenly on high alert. “Wait, what? What’s going on?”

Barbara, already halfway down the stairs and in heels, glared over her shoulder at Dick. “ _My_ idiot brother is stealing purses again. I’m going to go get him before Dad finds out.” Sure enough, when Dick searched the crowd for James Gordon Junior, the fifteen-year-old was expertly swiping wallets and purses without disturbing their owners, then collecting the cash inside before discarding the evidence. Not that Dick would ever mention it to Barbara, but James Jnr made the hairs on the back of Dick’s neck stand up. He didn’t like that kid.

“Okay then,” Dick murmured, a little disappointed that she was leaving him. He looked for Jason and Ariel again. “You deal with your brother, I’ll figure out a way to deal with mine.” But after looking around the party, the dance floor and the upper levels, Dick realised with some anguish that Jason was gone. _Shit,_ he thought to himself. _Too late._

* * *

Tim and Barbara listened, as Bruce told them what he knew happened to Jason like a mission report. The kidnapping, the torture and his subsequent bargain with Deathstroke. He glazed over the details of the darker things, but his tone left no room to be mistaken. What had happened to Jason was dark and violent, and left him with more than physical scars. “It was so severe, and the brainwashing so good that he was convinced that we are the enemy and that he had to kill me,” Bruce said finally.

Tim had sat silently, listening to what Bruce said but with a far-off vacant expression, but he blinked slowly as if coming out of a daze when he said _kill_. “He… what?”

“Jason was the Arkham Knight, Tim,” Barbara said softly.

That was the end of all sanity.

Tim began yelling at Bruce for being so stupid as to take in Jason after all that he’d done.

It turned out, Tim had begun mapping out the Arkham Knight’s whereabouts for at least the last year, and it didn’t paint a gentle picture. His hair was all over the place, and he looked mad as he told him. “He was earning a name as himself as a mercenary. Kidnappings, assassinations – he was on the run to becoming better than Deathstroke!” Bruce flinched at the picture of his Jason, coldly slashing necks.

“I know,” Bruce said. “But he wasn’t in his right mind.”

“He tried to kill Barbara!” Tim yelled, arm swinging wide. “What if he had killed her, huh? What then, Bruce? Would he still have been your prodigal son, if Barbara had died at the hands of the Knight?”

“He never tried to kill me-” Barbara started.

“He gave you to the man who threw you off a building! He had you beaten and tortured, and you’re saying he was the perfect saint?”

“ _He_ didn’t have me beaten. Scarecrow did.”

“He… Do you know what Harley did to me when you locked me up?” Tim shouted.

No. He didn’t. “What did Harley do?” Bruce asked.

Tim opened his mouth but shut it again. He shook his head and tried to steer the conversation away. “I’m not doing this. The Arkham Knight is on the beach _alone_ with _my brother_ , and we’re just… just… sitting here!”

But Bruce wasn’t letting the Harley thing go. “Jason wouldn’t work with Harley Quinn. He hates her as much as he hates Joker. What did she do to you?” he asked.

Tim glared at Bruce and shook his head. “Does it _matter_? It’s clear you only have room for one Robin.” He went to the door, with a look of hatred in his eyes that Bruce had never associated with his youngest before. Bruce stood and moved between him and the exit. He wasn’t having a third son walk out on him.

“That’s not true, Tim, and you know it. I’m trying to make you understand that Jason wasn’t in complete control of himself,” Bruce snapped. “Jason’s mind was twisted, and I’m trying to rehabilitate him.”

“Do you know what he’s done? How many lives he’s ruined?” Tim demanded.

Bruce knew the exact number of deaths caused by The Siege. Official figures were declared at eighty-four, to include Bruce and Alfred, but eighty-two was just as large of a number without them. Bruce hadn’t been able to bring himself to acknowledge it all while he was trying so hard to recuperate Jason. “I know. He does too.”

Tim laughed without humour, pushing his hair back against his head. “You don’t know the hell I’ve been through, since that night, Bruce. I was willing to forgive this. Forgive all of this, but if Jason was the Arkham Knight and you’re _hiding_ him after he almost killed us–”

“He saved us too,” Bruce interjected. “Jason was the one who shot me out of the straps. He helped me defeat Scarecrow.”

“So _that_ makes it all better? Is that what it takes to get in your good books, Bruce? Save your life once, but just leave your kids to be killed? Good to know.” Tim pointed at Barbara who had stayed silent the whole time. “ _I_ thought my fiancé was _dead_ half the night.”

“Because of Bruce’s hallucinations. No one actually killed me,” Barbara finally spoke up.

Tim spun and glared at her. “Well, this is interesting. You’re defending him? All you’ve done since The Siege is try and find out who the hell the Knight is.”

Barbara didn’t flinch. She hardened her resolve and stared him down, even from her shorter height. “It’s different now. Now I know who he is and… and a lot more of what happened that night makes sense. He kept yelling I betrayed him, and I couldn’t figure out why or how, but now I get it. I know you never knew Jason properly, but I did. When he’s hurt, he lashes out.”

“This wasn’t just _lashing out,_ Barbara.” Tim laughed a little maniacally, tilting his head back in disbelief. “He tried to kill you! I don’t know what part of this none of you seem to understand.”

“He’s family,” Barbara said. “I don’t know what part of that _you_ don’t understand.”

“Family?!” Tim yelled. “I can’t even convince you to call James to invite him to our wedding!”

“Tim!” Bruce snapped, interrupting as Barbara’s features went from unyielding to ice.

“Stay out of it, Bruce,” Barbara snapped, and she pointed her finger at Tim, and Bruce fell quiet. Barbara could fight her own battles. She always did. “When I was shot, and our father was almost killed by Joker, my brother abandoned us. Jason was kidnapped and tortured by the most inhumane rogue in Gotham. He didn’t get a choice.”

“He got a choice when he got out,” Tim rebutted.

Barbara closed her eyes and sighed, long and slow. “I was tortured by Joker for two hours, Tim,” she said coolly. “I am not the same person as I was before that, and I didn’t get a choice in who I became. Jason didn’t either.”

Tim clamped his jaw shut. He took a step back and away from Barbara, his body trembling. He ran his hand up through his hair, pulling it up, so it stood on its end. “I’ve got to get out of here,” he murmured, turning on his heel, turning right into Bruce who hadn’t budged as they argued. He squeezed his eyes shut, in frustration. “Let me through.”

“Tim,” Bruce said softly. “You don’t have to go. There are more than enough rooms–”

“I can’t stay here,” Tim said, his voice dripping with exhaustion. “I don’t trust _him_.”

Bruce sighed, looking at the dark shadows under his eyes. “You’ve overworked yourself, son.”

Tim shook his head and pushed Bruce to get to the front door. Bruce let him. He couldn’t force Tim to stay, not when things were so volatile. But he didn’t want him to go either. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, gently this time to coax his son from the ledge. He followed him into the next room, then stood the archway to the front entrance as he reached the door.

“This isn’t going to be that easy,” Tim said, not turning back around. “This _won’t_ be easy, Bruce.” He slicked back his hair again, tidying it. Bruce eyed the action warily. Tim developed tics when he was stressed. Eye twitches meant he was frustrated, and he rolled his shoulders when he was trying to think… He couldn’t figure out what this new one meant.

“You’ve made a mistake, Bruce. You chose to live with the man who tried to murder you, rather than throw him back into the Arkham boiler room. So much for your precious code. But that’s fine. You and everyone else want him back so bad, you keep him. I always knew this gig was temporary.”

Tim left, slamming the door behind him and Bruce sighed, pressing his head against the archway, feeling the cold stone beneath his head. Three sons. He’d managed to chase away all three of his sons. _Why did I become a parent again? Oh yeah. Alfred._

“I think it’s a wonderful idea, Master Bruce. Children bring laughter and joy into a household,” Alfred had told him when he’d first toyed with the idea of adopting Dick.

He snarled and thought _stupid Alfred_ for maybe the first time since he was thirteen and his guardian had grounded him for punching a kid at school.

He went back into the living room where Barbara was. She was staring at the wall blankly, chin rested on her palm as she stared out at nothing. He wasn’t good at comforting people. It was easier to do when the kids were actual children.

Children were easy to comfort. A hug and a promise that it would all be alright were easy to offer. Adults knew better. “I’m sorry,” he offered. Barbara lifted her head slowly, and Bruce sighed, knowing he said the wrong thing immediately from the disdain written across her face. “It’s been a long day, and I wasn’t expecting this.”

Barbara stared at him and relaxed, shaking her head. “Jason texted Dick.”

“Yes. He had an outburst. He didn’t think he could trust himself.”

“Got it, Bruce. Don’t worry. You don’t have to explain anymore. I don’t think I can hear it right now, anyway.” She sighed and grabbed onto her tyres. “I’m going to check on Alfred,” she said. “I need a minute to process.”

 _Away from you,_ went unspoken.

As she wheeled away, he sat on the couch and his head to stop an impending migraine.

That all could have gone… better.

But then again, he knew from the beginning none of it would be easy. He had hoped for more time to figure it out. He had spent so much time focused on Jason, trying to help him, he’d put any ideas of returning to Gotham on the back burner.

The sun had set and, despite all the chaos of the day Bruce needed to go find Jason. To talk to him about what had happened that morning, and to tell him he didn’t need protection from him in the form of distance. He also wanted to thank Selina for how much she cared about his boys, and pick Barbara’s mind for how she felt, and tell Dick he was sorry for how everything played out, and find Tim to convince him that Jason was okay, and tell Alfred how much he missed him.

But that was all for later.

 _Jason,_ he thought. _Find Jason._

He got up slowly, body wearing from the emotional rollercoaster of the day, and went towards the dining room when the doors opened, and Dick slipped inside. “We need to talk,” he said.

 _Jason,_ he reminded himself, but he figured if Dick was in front of him, Jason was most likely with Selina – as he was avoiding Barbara who was venting to Alfred – and she had her own way of dealing with him that was more effective than Bruce’s constant push and pull. He nodded and sat back down as Dick walked around the couch and took up his earlier position in the chair.

The hostility from the morning was still there, but it was minimal. Dick had other things on his mind, and he had spent a few hours outside with Jason and most likely knew everything and had his opinions. Bruce couldn’t decide what they were. He wasn’t sure if Dick would want to lock Jason away and throw away the key like Tim, or was just as confused as Barbara.

Dick sat across from Bruce, legs spread, elbows on knees and the same look on his face he had when he told Bruce he’d formed the Titans. “I want Jason to come live with me.”

He wasn’t confused at all, it seemed.

“No,” Bruce said, without thought, question or preamble.

Dick shook his head. “Bruce–”

“This is not up for discussion,” Bruce said.

“Funny. I was about to say the same thing,” Dick said.

“You don’t know the whole story.”

“I do,” Dick corrected him. “You think Jason and I just sat and stared at each other for the last few hours? I got him to talk. He told me everything from Joker to why he left this morning.”

Bruce shook his head. “You can’t handle him.”

“Don’t tell me what I can handle. I’ve spent the last three months thinking I’d lost two families,” Dick snapped.

“You think I haven’t been keeping tabs on you and Tim? You barely survived,” Bruce countered, and Dick reeled back like he’d been slapped. Bruce knew he was being cruel, but he had to be. He had to make Dick understand.

Dick ground his teeth together, pulling himself back together. “He’s been through hell and back, and he’s clearly not holding it together. You’re not exactly a pillar of emotional support, Bruce. He needs help.”

“I agree. But it’s not for you to decide how he gets that help.” Dick opened his mouth to speak, but Bruce cut him off. “You work full time as a police officer. The rest of your day, you’re Nightwing. In between, you’re dodging the press. Tell me, when are you going to take care of him?”

“He doesn’t need to be taken care of. He’s an adult.”

“I need to sit with him so he can fall asleep,” Bruce replied, and Dick’s face fell. Jason hadn’t told him everything then. But Bruce kept going. “Sometimes, he’s fine. He jokes, watches soaps, and cooks, and then something sets him off, and he can’t drag himself out of bed. He only showered because Selina came, and he shaved today so he could run away. He got drunk and put himself in a fight where he could have died. He punched a hole through the wall. You don’t know how bad it can be. Trying to run away is nothing. He almost killed me in his sleep.”

Dick fell silent and glared at Bruce, in a stalemate. The door rolled open, and Barbara came back in. “Jason won’t come inside while I’m here and… I actually don’t think I’m ready for that anyway. I just want to go to bed. Is there a bed here for me?”

Bruce didn’t look away from Dick as he answered her. “There is always a bed for you, Barbara.”

Dick didn’t look away either, and they were stuck in a staring competition of who would break first. Dick ground his teeth together and huffed as he stood up. “This isn’t over, Bruce.”

“Yes, it is,” Bruce said, getting up and moving to Barbara. “I’ll take you to your room, Barbara.” Bruce collected Barbara from her chair, lifting her up easily. She was light in his arms, and he looked over her head at Dick. “Don’t bring this up again with me. You’re not going to like my answer.” It was a lingering threat he used when the boys were younger and being incessant over things, and Dick tightened his fists by his side but said nothing in front of Barbara – a residual side effect of their break up.

But that wasn’t his problem.

Not tonight.

* * *

Dick stared after Bruce’s back and closed his eyes.

It had been a long day, and he had barely slept the night before as it was. The flight from Gotham to Mazatlán had been exhausting. Seeing Bruce, then having Jason there too had put him in a tailspin. He was trying to process everything. Jason being alive, Jason being the Arkham Knight, Jason being tortured mentally and physically, and Jason a wanted criminal and a mass murderer.

He moved sluggishly through the house – decorated like an Arabian weaponry and a classical Library had a baby, and a colonial Manor raised it – and he went out to the deck off the kitchen but paused there when he saw Alfred tending to a kettle on the stove. He watched for a moment, his heart filling with warmth. “Hey Al,” he said softly.

Alfred startled and looked up from what he was doing, a smile spreading out across his face. “Master Richard, my boy.” Dick grinned and crossed the room, meeting Alfred on his side of the kitchen island and embraced the man. Dick had, had to adapt to Bruce being his parent – just as Bruce had to adjust to being a parent – but he had sunk into a grandparent-grandchild relationship with Alfred like sinking into an old armchair. “I missed you, Alfred.”

“I missed you too, Master Richard.” Alfred patted Dick’s cheek once before he pulled away to tend to the whistling kettle. “Can you call Master Jason inside? Master Bruce has told me he’s been abnormally cold, and I do believe he is shivering out there with Miss Selina.”

Dick frowned and went to the door, and sure enough, Jason was there shivering as Selina rubbed his arms and kept talking to him, whispering most likely words of encouragement to brave the inside. _Alive,_ he thought to himself, staring at his younger brother. He had been to his funeral. Mourned him. Laid his mask at the bottom of Catherine Todd’s grave so at the very least a part of him could be with his mother. _Alive, alive, alive, alive, alive…_

“Jay,” he said, sticking his head out. “Babs went to bed.”

Jason looked up, white-faced and teeth chattering and quickly let Selina push him inside. “Your jumper is in the living room,” Selina told him, and he nodded and ducked to go get it. She had followed them out of the house, but waited on the deck and watched them talk on the beach. She was probably worried that Jason would turn and run again, but it hadn’t been an issue. Selina turned and smiled at Dick. “Hey, Dick. We didn’t get to talk much.”

But Dick didn’t particularly want to speak with Selina. He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. “You knew he was alive.” It wasn’t a question. Just a statement of fact and with a long sigh she nodded.

“It wasn’t my place,” she sighed.

He tried to think of the last time he’d seen Selina.

He had been drunk.

That was why it was so hard to recall.

“Bullshit,” Dick snapped. “You spent three years living with us. You were family, and you don’t think you could have mentioned to me once that B was alive?”

“It’s okay, kid,” she had told him that night, rubbing his back as he threw up in a back alley in Blüdhaven. “Let it all out.”

“Dick,” she said in the present. “It wasn’t my place. I told B to tell you. I swear.”

That night, Dick leant back against the brick wall, lending it all of his weight after he was done heaving. Selina had to hold him up, so he didn’t slide down into his own vomit. He looked up at her, her face haloed by the full moon. “I never told him… I don’t think I told him… How grateful I am. How much I…” He’d hiccupped and rubbed his wet face on the back of his sleeve. “You’d think I’d have learnt by now. But there are so many people I just didn’t… I didn’t _tell_ them.”

“He knows, Dick. Trust me, he knows.” She had spoken of him in the present, but Dick had been too wasted to notice. Dick sobbed drunkenly that night, and Selina had pulled him up off the wall and took most of his weight on her smaller frame. “Come on, Boy Wonder. Let’s get you home.”

“No, forget about it. Just forget about all of it,” Dick hissed at her on the deck of Mazatlán. “I trusted you. I told you…” He shook his head. “I’m not doing this.” He turned on his heel and went back inside, leaving her on the deck. He went back in as Jason came back into the kitchen, zipping up a soft red hooded jacket. _Alive_ , the whispering kept going.

“Master Jason, have you eaten today?” Alfred asked.

Jason blinked and considered it. “Um… no. But we don’t have much. I was supposed to go shopping,” he said, sheepishly looking at Selina who walked in behind Dick.

“You’re not going anywhere again without an armed guard and a tracking device,” Selina countered, and Dick bristled just the slightest bit. Bruce wasn’t even going to consider letting Jason go with him, but Dick couldn’t leave him with Bruce.

His mentor was many things.

Whip-smart, a skilled fighter, a master tactician…

But if there was one area which Bruce failed Dick, Jason, Tim and Barbara, it was their emotional needs. He was fine when there was no mission or grand scheme… in between cases, when he was mostly asleep, he could be okay. But for long-term issues, things that ate at the boys and dragged them into the darkest pits of despair…

Bruce was always at a loss as to how to help them with that.

Jason had always been a strange mix of fiercely independent and clingy. The minute he realised he had people who cared about and took care of him, losing that frightened him. Dick still remembered when he’d moved out properly when he was eighteen. How Jason, the same kid who ran away at least twice a year, couldn’t fathom why Dick would want to leave the Manor. “It’s our home,” he’d said adamantly.

“You went and lived with that weird Eddy kid like last week,” Dick snorted, packing his bags. “And you said you never wanted to come back.”

Jason didn’t even blink and repeated, “It’s home. B and I fight but, it’s the only place I’ve ever had. I’ll always come back. I love this place. I swear I’m gonna die in the Manor,” he chuckled a little and Dick had rolled his eyes at the time.

It was what had kept Dick believing so long that Jason was alive. Because Jason swore he’d die in the Manor and Jason didn’t make promises lightly.

At some point, Alfred had decided to make sandwiches and asked Dick if he wanted one too, but Dick waved him off and went and sat next to Jason at the kitchen island. He reached his hand out and gripped Jason’s bicep, and Jason looked down but said nothing.

Alfred took a moment to look at them and beamed. “It is so very good to see the two of you together again.”

“Give it a minute,” Jason murmured. “Once we start fighting, I’m sure you’ll want to throw us out.”

Alfred smiled. “That will come later.”

Dick hummed in agreement. _Alive,_ he thought, feeling Jason’s pulse beneath his palm. _Alive, alive, alive…_

He wasn’t giving up on taking Jason home where, whatever the hell he needed to get out of the darkness he’d shrouded himself in, Dick would get. If he had to quit his job to take care of him, Dick would. Bruce had given Dick a generous inheritance and shares in Wayne Enterprises when he’d turned eighteen, and when Bruce was legally declared ‘dead’, Dick inherited some of the companies that fell under the Wayne Enterprise umbrella.

He didn’t have to work. He never touched that money, but if looking after Jason meant twenty-four seven monitoring like Bruce was suggesting, Dick would do it. Even though he had finally been promoted to Sergeant First Class, he didn’t need to be one. He was still Nightwing.

He didn’t care that Jason had killed either.

He couldn’t wrap his mind around his little brother, who had been so gentle with Jonathan Kent – an indestructible baby – could have organised something as terrible and dark as The Siege. But he could deal with that – and all feelings connected to that – later. For now, Jason looked like an even more broken version of the brother who he’d thought he’d lost all those years ago, and he just wanted to take him back to Blüdhaven and hide him away from all the evils of the world.

Dick, Jason and Selina all got a sandwich slid in front of them. “I’ll go shopping tomorrow,” Alfred said. “Stock this place up proper… Is Master Timothy still on that protein diet?”

Jason tensed up beneath Dick’s touch at Tim’s mention, and Dick realised the question was directed at him. “Um…” If Dick were being honest, he hadn’t spoken to Tim properly in weeks. They’d communicated through Conner about various comings and goings, but since he had proposed to Barbara, Dick hadn’t been able to bring himself to say anything more than some mumbled congratulations, avoiding all eye contact with Barbara. “I don’t think so.”

There hadn’t been a ‘Dick and Barbara’ after Jason was declared dead.

It took a while. There was an emptiness there between them and shared guilt that made having a relationship more difficult. Then Joker paralysed Barbara and Dick tried to be there for her, but she wouldn’t let him and cut him off.

He told Bruce, and she said Jim, and everyone else just thought it was funny that Dick and Barbara wouldn’t circle each other in a room anymore or figured it out. _Then_ Tim was adopted, and he had planned on telling him, but it didn’t come up at first.

But Tim started asking about Barbara. Asked about if she was single, or if she liked anyone. And Dick had been torn between being a brother and being an ex. In the end though – Dick looked at Jason, chatting with Alfred about how Julia was – he decided being a brother was more important.

He gave up the girl and texted Barbara that night.

_Do not tell Tim about us._

She’d been confused at first, but when Tim had asked her out, she replied.

_I won’t tell him._

He’d been relieved. He wanted Tim to be happy. He wanted Barbara to be happy.

But he still loved her.

Now the girl was marrying his little brother, and he couldn’t look either of them in the eye.

“Dick?” Jason nudged him, and Dick looked over at Jason, momentarily bewildered.

“What?” he asked, sure he had missed something.

Jason frowned at him. “You’ve been staring at the wall for like ten minutes and haven’t touched your food.”

Dick blinked, staring at his brother’s blue eyes and scarred face. _Alive, alive, alive…_ Broken, tortured, unstable but… _alive_. “I’m just…” He squeezed Jason’s arm. Solid. Real. There. _Alive._ “Happy, Jay. I’m really stupid happy.”

He smiled because he had Jason back. Barbara, Tim… Whatever was going on in Gotham and Blüdhaven.

None of it really mattered.

Jason was alive, and no one was ever going to hurt him again.

Dick was going to make sure of that, whether Bruce let him or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cause of work at the moment, updating might be a little patchy for a few days...
> 
> I've had to stay back the last 4 days... and I don't get paid overtime :(
> 
> Repeat: I need a new job.
> 
> *sigh* 
> 
> On a cheerier note: I finished playing The Enemy Within (se2 of Batman The Telltale Series) and oh my God! *spoilers ahead* I played one version making Joker vigilante and then Joker villain and, I gotta say, I love the version where you make Joker a vigilante so much cause all Selina/Bruce interactions - in my version he sacrificed himself for her and he said 'I love you'... I realised (looking through the statistics) that everyone just wants Bruce to be a nice person. Majority of the people did things that made him nice to Selina, Alfred, Tiffany etc. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!


	5. This is our ungodly hour

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I spent 12 hours writing the last few chapters in the series today (I don't always write in order of events, and I have literally done nothing between this story and the final part) but I'm really proud of it and I just want to post it now, but I can't because it'll make no sense and I don't want to spoil it but...
> 
> Gah, I'm happy.
> 
> Onwards!

Bruce hated Gotham galas as much as his sons, Barbara, and Alfred probably did. It was nice that they came to the charity gala for his mother every year – the only annual event Bruce never missed – but it was tiresome nonetheless. Smiling, laughing and acting like a buffoon in general, was excruciating.

Although he liked the women and their company, charming them in their dozens was exhaustive and not a practical use of his efforts.

He was considering reigning in his playboy image. Lucius said it would have nothing but positive effects for the business and the stocks if he seemed less daft and a little more business savvy in public, but he knew it would have to be a gradual change and not overnight.

It might be easier since he’d adopted two sons.

Because of Bruce’s age at the time he took in Dick – he’d been a few months shy of thirty at the time but publically acted sixteen – people had thought Bruce was merely a reckless and eccentric man who’d taken in a playmate on his level. The media couldn’t see that he’d brought home a lonely little boy, who need guidance and attention. But when he’d adopted Jason he was a little older, and the media turned Jason, much to the young boy’s chagrin, into a charity case. The affluent Bruce took in a poor street kid who had lost his mother to drugs and his father to a prison brawl. And still, they demanded _Brucie_ , the public showboat and womaniser.

Sometimes it was fun for the boys. Bruce hired a yacht once in the summer and filled it with supermodels. Jason and Dick had both been in awe as Bruce drove the boat around Gotham harbour, splashing passers-by. Of course, eventually they went out into deeper waters, and when all the girls were distracted with the party, they dove into darker waters to get to the submarine he’d left there earlier.

But the paparazzi shots of Bruce, Dick, and Jason spinning around Gotham harbour were still up on his wall of newspaper clippings somewhere.

 _Maybe I can die it down a little,_ he thought, knocking back his fifth glass of champagne. He’d developed a formula that dissolved the alcohol in any drink he had and had a specific waiter pouring drinks for him – and for Dick and Jason, though they had yet to catch on.

His thoughts focused on the boys, he looked around to try and spot them, but could only see Barbara in the corner with her brother James. She looked furious and was snapping at him as she forcefully removed money from his pockets. He frowned and looked for Jim. He hadn’t noticed his children yet, caught up in a conversation with the mayor.

“Sorry Lucia, I’m going to have to get back to you on that,” Bruce said to the woman he was talking to from the board of something-or-another, and he dismissed himself without another word and made his way through the crowd towards Barbara and James. As he approached, his honed skills could hear their whispered argument.

“- mugging people, James! Dad is up for promotion, and you’re here pulling this crap!” She finally searched all his pockets and tugged out all the money James had stolen throughout the evening.

“Cause these people are going to notice,” James said, rolling his eyes. “They don’t give a shit about the _kids_ Barbara. It’s all just an image thing.”

“I don’t care if it is. Where have you thrown the wallets?”

“In the fountain, under table eleven, in the flower stand…” he drawled. He was only fifteen. Not much younger than Jason. But he was nothing like his youngest, who had been a criminal filled with guilt and morals.

“You don’t steal from kids,” Jason had told Bruce once when his hair still stuck out at odd angles and he hadn’t discovered just how much he liked girls. “Or hurt kids. But anyone older than you is up for grabs. Unless they’re also poor, or single parents. Then you leave them be. They’re struggling too, and that’s shit karma, B.”

“Language,” Bruce had berated, but his chest was swelling with pride.

James had no such sympathies, and Bruce could see it in the way he eyed Barbara dangerously. Like he was a cobra, and she was the mouse snooping in his hole.

Barbara groaned in frustration. “You’re such a little… I am telling Dad as soon as we get home. Stop taking people’s money.”

With that, Bruce interrupted them. “Barbara, James,” Bruce greeted them. Barbara stuffed the money in her purse and straightened up as she turned to Bruce, plastering a smile on her face. She knew Bruce knew what was going on, but like Bruce, she had a persona. The serious, studious, responsible and charming daughter of Gotham’s lead detective, and the free-spirited, smart, and fierce daughter of Gotham’s greatest detective – or rumoured daughter, but Bruce never denied or confirmed the rumours of Robin and Batgirl being his children.

“Hiya, Bruce,” Barbara said perkily. “You know my brother.”

“Junior,” Bruce said, holding out his hand. Barbara nudged her brother, and he glared at her and ignored Bruce’s hand anyway, so Bruce silently removed it and acted as if it never happened. “Your father tells me you’re excelling in school. A future Fields Medal winner. Maybe you can help my son out sometimes. Jason’s very good at English and the Arts, but lacks discipline when it comes to science and mathematics.”

James stared blankly at Bruce and rolled his eyes. “I’m out.” He turned on his heel and left the two of them alone, and when he was far enough out of earshot, Barbara physically deflated and leant back against the wall, hiding in the curtains.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with him,” Barbara muttered, hiding her face behind her hand.

Bruce lowered his voice, moving closer to Barbara and squeezed her hand. “I have never doubted your ability to handle situations as Batgirl, but this isn’t a robbery or a criminal. It’s your brother, and he’s not your responsibility. Tell your father.”

Barbara’s shoulders slumped a little, and she looked up guiltily after looking around the room. Bruce raised his eyebrow. “What?”

“Dick is trying to stop Jason sleeping with the she-witch Ariel Crowne, so he doesn’t get his heartbroken after she has sex and dumps him because he’s an orphan like she did to Dick. Now they’re both missing.”

It took Bruce a moment to absorb those words. He tried, as hard as he could, to not think about Dick or Jason having sex. He had been forced by Alfred to give Dick The Talk, and then later Jason, but after that awkward half hour in which both Dick then Jason, in turn, informed him they were already well aware of what he was talking about, he tried not to bring up their dating habits again. “That,” Bruce said his voice wavering uncertainly. “Is a brother responsibility.”

It only then occurred to Bruce that Jason and Dick were in an age gap where they would be dating the same range of women. Not that it made a difference with both of his boys on having grown a proclivity for older women. He closed his eyes against a rising headache as he realised that since Jason and Donna had dissolved, the boys would most likely be sharing more and more females in common and the fights were not going to be pretty.

He opened his eyes and smiled at Barbara. “I’m not going to get involved… but can you make sure they don’t kill each other?”

“I can always try,” she said.

Bruce smiled softly and was about to speak when something – or rather _someone_ – caught his eye.

He blinked and pressed his hand on Barbara’s shoulder, sidestepping her to get a better look at a woman in a golden dress, who he could have sworn…

The woman turned around, and her long dark hair had equally brown eyes attached to them and not the green he’d been expecting. “Bruce?” Barbara asked.

He shook his head. “Sorry, Barbara. I just thought I saw… never mind.”

Because it couldn’t have been her.

Last time they broke up, she had sworn never to step foot in Gotham again unless he agreed to marry her.

And if nothing else, Talia al Ghul was a woman of her word.

* * *

Bruce got a text message around six in the morning from Barbara, asking him for help.

He didn’t mind.

At the Manor they’d installed various things around the place and, mostly in her room, so Barbara could get around in her wheelchair with relative ease. “You don’t have to,” she insisted, every time she saw a new installation. “Really, B–”

“It’s still your home, Miss Barbara,” Alfred said before even Bruce could interrupt. “And your work. We’d be rude not to.”

She’d blushed and been brought to tears when Bruce purchased the Clocktower, specifically for her and had the top levels redesigned to be wheelchair accessible. He even paid for the Justice League level computers and server rooms. Again, Bruce didn’t care. Barbara was an invaluable member of the team and he always wanted the best out of his operatives. The wheelchair was an inconvenience but after Jason, he had been determined that it wouldn’t be the end of her world.

 _If we stay here,_ Bruce thought to himself, getting out of bed. _I’ll have to make some changes for her._

He went downstairs to the bedroom they’d set her up in. He’d insisted she took the room with the bathroom that joined with Selina, in case anything happened. Selina liked Barbara, and she ran around in the Birds of Prey team now and then. They’d had issues, but they got over them, and even during the worst of their fighting, Selina had always quietly looked after Barbara, the same way she did for the boys.

He knocked on the door, and Barbara told him to come in.

She was sitting in her chair, in a too large t-shirt, leaning on her hand in frustration. Bruce raised his eyebrow and rather than speak, Barbara tried spinning her wheels, and the thick fluffy carpet trapped them. “Also, the chair is too big for the door, so this is me asking you to carry me to the toilet.”

Bruce nodded patiently and went over to her. He lifted her from the chair with ease, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he carried her to the bathroom. He was confident she hated every moment of him having to help her, but she didn’t complain out loud. It took her a long while to accept having to ask for help after the injury, but she was still stubborn enough that she failed a few times before she spoke up.

He put her down on the toilet and took his leave, waiting outside the door for her to call him again. She did, after some shuffling and the flush of the toilet. He went back in and, he presumed she’d used the towel rack on the wall to move herself to the small step that walked into the bathtub. “Ha! And they call me handicapped,” she teased. “Now can you lift me up so I can wash my hands?”

Bruce smiled and lifted Barbara up from behind, frog walking her to the sink. He held her upright, to her full height that was only a head shorter than his own, and waited for her to wash her hands. She also threw some water over her face. When she was done, she pulled upright and leant back against his chest, looking at them both in the mirror. “Hey, B,” she whispered.

“Hi Barbara,” he replied.

Barbara swallowed, wiping away tears from her eyes before they could fall. “You know, we missed you. We really, _really_ missed you. Not Batman or the Bruce Wayne the public is mourning. We missed _you_.”

Bruce sighed. “I had things to do.”

“I know but…” Barbara shook her head. “You could have told us. You could have had the same faith in us as you did in The League. We’re not just your responsibility. You’re ours. You’re our leader. Our family. We thought we’d failed you.”

Bruce looked Barbara in the eye, through the reflection. “You could never fail me. I was just…”

“Alone,” Barbara whispered. “You’ve kept us at arm’s length for months.”

They didn’t speak for a minute, and Bruce tried to think of the best way to explain it to her. “When I realised what The Joker had done to me, my first worry was hurting you, Tim, and Dick. I had nightmares about it, and I was doing strange things. Making more dangerous plans. It was his influence, and once I realised I couldn’t expose any of you to that. Especially not you.”

“Joker isn’t my nightmare anymore, Bruce. My nightmares involve losing one of you. That came true.”

“I know,” Bruce murmured. “At the end of the day, I’m more selfish than I let on. My fears outweighed yours. I couldn’t be the reason any of you were hurt. I can’t live with any more guilt.”

Her hand cupped over his, squeezing his fist. Barbara looked to where Jason’s room was, biting her lip. “Jason yelled at me for hours the night of The Siege. He wouldn’t let anyone hurt me though. Not that he knew what Scarecrow did to me. Now that I think of what happened that night, and everything the Arkham Knight said to me, it makes perfect sense. He thought I’d feel just as betrayed by you as he was. But I never felt betrayed by you, Bruce. Not for what happened with The Joker and I. Don’t feel guilty because I don’t blame you.

“But you not telling us about what was happening with Joker, faking your own death… That. It’s the worst thing you’ve done.”

Bruce squeezed Barbara closer, out of guilt. He didn’t say anything, only swung her up into his arms. She swept her arms around his neck to steady herself, curving her back, so she was sitting upright. He couldn’t meet her eye as he carried her back inside, feet dragging through the carpet, not because she was heavy, but because he was. He set her down in her chair and knelt to pull the footholds up, guiding each foot to its place.

Bruce stayed kneeling in front of her and lifted his gaze to meet hers. Like all his protégés, she had blue eyes. It was funny how that happened. “I’m sorry, Barbara.” He squeezed her small hand in his large one. There were muscles and callouses inside the palms from the wheels of her chair and the workouts he knew she persisted with. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Any of you. But if I had to go back to that night, I wouldn’t change what I did. I worked with what I knew, and I did it to protect you three, and it gave me Jason back. I can apologise for how it happened, but I won’t apologise for what I did. Do you understand?”

Barbara reached out and touched Bruce’s face. “I always understand you, Bruce. Because…” She swallowed reluctantly, eyes blurring with tears. “I would have done the exact same thing. And that scares the hell out of me.”

Bruce sighed and leant against her hand and closed his eyes. They sat like that as Barbara regained her emotions, pushing them down into her chest. He cupped her hand to his cheek for a moment, squeezing it and gently returned it to her lap. “You deserve everything good, Barbara,” Bruce said, looking back up at her.

He wanted to say more. Wanted to say that she did deserve Dick, despite what she thought, and that Tim shouldn’t have been a consolation prize. Not for her and not for him. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t interfere in their love lives.

But she seemed to know, and her fingers slid down his cheek and over his shoulders, leading back to her wheelchair and the unfortunate tyres that weren’t moving through Talia’s ultra-thick carpeting. She never did like Barbara, and he wouldn’t be surprised if that were why she chose it. “Okay, you need to get me somewhere, where I can move around myself.”

Bruce chuckled and stood up slowly. Before he did move though he had to ask her something. “You and Jason? I know you said some things to Tim last night about Jason being family, but what are you really thinking? Because you have every right to be mad at him, but he’s not ready to deal with your anger yet.”

Barbara looked towards where Jason was like she was Clark, and she could see through the walls. “I’m happy he’s alive, Bruce. And I won’t push him. But I can’t just forget what he did either. I want answers. I want to know why what happened, happened. But I’m okay with waiting. For now, I’m okay with just enjoying the fact that my best friend isn’t dead.”

Bruce sighed in relief. “Thank you, Barbara.” He squeezed her hand and pushed her chair towards the door, moving through the house in quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How did you enjoy it?
> 
> :) <3


	6. Normal, at best

When Ariel leant in close to Jason’s ear and whispered something about how much she wanted to get into Jason’s pants while they were dancing, the younger teenager didn’t even need to think twice. He found himself kissing her cheek and nodding into her skin until the dance ended, stomach winding with nervous butterflies.

He took her hand, palms sweating and quietly, they left the grand ballroom together and walked along to the hotel’s reception.

Ariel couldn’t stop touching him. His cheek, his neck, his back, his ass. Her hands roamed his body as they walked through the crowd, and Jason couldn’t help but blush. Donna had never been like that. Publicly, no one could ever guess they were together. The Titans only knew because a few months after they started whatever it was they were doing, Dick had walked into Jason’s room as Donna was pulling on her t-shirt and he’d made such a big deal over it, everyone found out. But after that dramatic announcement, the two barely spoke around each other in public, other than a few snarky quips.

“Slow down,” Jason chuckled, a little embarrassed. Public displays of affection weren’t his thing, but the next thing he knew, her lips were attached to his neck, and she was pushing a hand up the back of his shirt. He still hadn’t gotten them to the receptions desk, and he laughed nervously tugging away. “Hold on, let me get us a room.”

Ariel nodded, biting her lip like she was about to devour it… or him.

The idea sent tingles up his spine, and he went to the reception and took out the card Bruce had given him in case of emergencies. He could make up for it later, but for the time being he got a room in the penthouse and put in a small side note that he’d soon be grounded.

The doorman offered to lead the way, but Jason had broken into the hotel as Robin enough times to know the layout. Ariel was back on him the moment he took her hand, lips against his jaw and teeth scraping his skin. They headed to the elevator’s, down a darkened hall and she pounced upon him, pushing him up against the wall and untucking his shirt with one hand as her hand pushed through his hair with the other.

Jason’s only dream that evening had been to ask Ariel out, and now she was climbing him in the hallway. He tried to tug her hands away from his belt but didn’t want to hurt her. “Down girl,” he murmured. “We’ll be upstairs in a minute.”

“Hmm, the things I could do to you in a minute…”

Then they were kissing.

It was strange for Jason that this was the first time that they’d kissed, considering his belt buckle was already undone, but the elevator dinged, and he was back into it by her surprisingly strong arms.

She pulled at his bowtie, undoing it with expert fingers and a part of Jason wanted to ask her if she’d done it before. _Was it Dick who taught you how to take off a bowtie?_ A crueller part of his subconscious wanted to snarl, but he shoved that aside because everything she was doing felt so good.

He wanted to tell her to slow down, only because he hadn’t done this before. He had been with Donna, and that was it. He’d dated other girls, sure. Kissed them too. But going from zero to one hundred was new for him, but he didn’t dare say anything in case it broke whatever _this_ was.

Her hands were everywhere again. On his face, around his waist, down his back, under his shirt. He wondered how she moved them so quickly to all the spots that felt good. How did she know they felt good? He was fumbling with what to do with his own, eventually settling them around her waist as she worked magic on his senses.

He was mostly undressed by the time they got to the level, his shirt undone, his pants hanging off his hips by strings of wishful thinking, and his jacket around his elbows. They got out of the elevator and Jason led them backwards to Room 357, hitting a few walls and doors along the way. “Hang on,” he laughed between their lips. “Hang on, I have to get the door.”

“Hurry up,” she said as he turned around, fishing the key card from his pocket. Her lips went to his neck, and he grinned wickedly to himself and led them inside.

It wasn’t like his first time with Donna. Or any time with Donna. Donna had been with guys before Jason. But she knew she was Jason’s first so was always careful. Like Ariel, she’d been older than him too, and she only ever did things he was comfortable with. Jason was surprisingly comfortable with a lot, but there were a lot of questions as they moved through with Donna.

There were no questions with Ariel.

She pushed him into the bedroom onto the bed and drove her hand down his pants. He groaned on contact and fell backwards, but didn’t get to savour it as much as he wanted to because she was tugging down his pants and leaving them on the floor as she got on her knees. “Jesus Christ,” he pressed his hand over his eyes, and he could even see the stars there.

It occurred to Jason then that, he’d only ever been with Donna, and though she had always told him he was great, she had never slept with Dick Grayson. Suddenly all of his insecurities rose to the surface, but Jason sucked in a deep breath and sat up so he could see Ariel. “Hey, hey, slow down,” he said. She pulled off him and instead of slowing, she moved her lips up to his and cut off all his fears and worries with strawberry flavoured lips.

Her hands pushed off his jacket, and he helped them both shuffle back onto the bed. _What the hell am I freaking out for? A beautiful sexy chick is losing her shit for me. Not for Grayson. Me._ He moved his hands down her back until they were rested on her ass and started pulling up the back of her skirt until it was hitched around her waist.

_Donna still would have listened when I asked her to stop._

_Then again, Donna is screwing her Professor right now so who the hell needs her?_

He spun Ariel over on the bed and took off the rest of his jacket, careful to take out the condom first.

_Screw Donna. Screw Dick. I’m going to be with Ariel Crowne tonight, and I don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks._

And that was what Jason did.

* * *

Jason woke up exhausted.

When Alfred had sent them to bed late into the night, Dick had followed Jason into his room and propped himself up on the pillow as Jason sprawled over the bed, so his head was at Dick’s feet, and it was so familiar that it made his spine tingle.

Dick and Jason had spent many nights in similar positions, catching up after a particularly long mission kept Dick away from Gotham, or when, after Dick had gotten his own apartment, Jason went and crashed there to get away from Bruce. Sometimes they would sit in silence after a fight and Jason would read and Dick switch between being on his phone, to his laptop, to fidgeting with something or sketching out plans.

Jason had wanted this. Wanted it for so long. To have his family back under one roof and to be normal. Or at least, their kind of normal. And he knew that Selina was down the hall from him. That Bruce was upstairs. Alfred too. Barbara was right next door, and though he wasn’t ready to see her, she was so close. And Dick…

Dick had heard the worst of him on the beach. He had asked him to explain what had happened, and Jason had recounted the long tale to the man who had, at one point, known Jason better than he had known himself.

And then, after Jason told Dick the way he’d planned their father’s death and rescued him from it, Dick had squeezed the arm around his shoulder and said it was getting dark and they should probably head inside.

He insisted on sharing a room with Jason after dinner, despite Jason explaining to him five times that he had strangled Bruce in his sleep. “Yeah, but you like me,” he teased, and Jason had just gone with it, unable to argue with the maniac that was Dick Grayson.

That was when Dick talked.

Jason felt it only fair since he’d spilt his guts on the beach.

But he didn’t talk about himself. Dick told him about everyone else.

Clark, Lois and Jonathan were fine – Jonathan was almost ten, and was obsessed with Pokémon.

Roy got married, had a kid, got divorced, and the little girl was killed by a villain, Prometheus. It had gotten bad for him, but he was better now. He had stayed with Dick since the Siege to make sure he was eating, most likely in retribution for Dick doing the same for him when Lian had died.

Arthur and Mera had a kid in the meantime, but the three-year-old had never been to the surface world, and Dick hated deep sea diving.

Donna was married with a kid, which he knew – he may have stalked her once or twice. She was no longer an active hero, but she had followed her mentor into a life of psychiatry and nutjobs. She’d been in a bad place for a while, and Dick wouldn’t elaborate, but he did say it was settled now.

Diana was engaged, but that was only recent. Some guy named Steve Trevor, and Jason detected a hint of disappointment in his voice that Bruce never rekindled anything with the Amazonian. _Score one, team Selina,_ he thought, grinning at the old argument between the brothers.

Wally was married to some girl Jason didn’t know – Linda something. Barry and Iris still just had the twins, but Barry had gone missing for a year in the Speed Force and ran out of it with his future grandson in tow who was stuck in their time until further notice.

Conner had teamed up with Tim at some point, and the two were better friends than Dick and Conner had ever been apparently. (which was saying something because at some point Dick had become Conner’s life guru from what Jason could recall)

Kori and Dick were on permanent outs because she thought (knew, in Jason’s opinion) Dick was still in love with Barbara.

Barbara and Dick were on the outs too, but Dick didn’t say explicitly why though Jason assumed it had something to do with her being engaged to Tim.

“Zatanna misses you, weirdly,” Dick said.

“Why weirdly?” Jason said, mocking offence. But then he thought about it, and he was certain that Zatanna had hated him before he left. She always criticised him, and most of their conversations ended with an argument. “And what do you mean she misses me?”

“You two never hung out before. But every time she comes over, she stares at your photo.”

“On your bedside?” Jason asked.

“No.” Dick frowned. “I mean… yes. Your photo is there… have you been to my apartment?”

“I know where it is. But I haven’t been inside, no. B told me about the photo.”

“Oh. Well, I have one in my living room too. Of us and Babs at a gala. Zatanna and I aren’t dating. We did for like, three seconds a few years back, but we make better friends.” Dick frowned again a second later. “Why were you and Bruce talking about my bedroom?”

“Talking about who you’ve slept with. I made an enemy of one of your exes since I’ve been here. Catalina Flores.”

Dick had changed from that point. He froze, and his face went white tinged with green. Jason frowned at him, sitting up on one arm. “You okay?” Jason asked.

But Dick didn’t respond straight away, shaking his head like he was trying to get something out. “You know Cat?”

Jason shrugged. “Kind of. I worked with her for a while. She never mentioned you, but I have a feeling that she knew who I was, which was why she was so keen to work with me.”

Dick became serious. “When?”

“Um…” Jason squinted his eyes, trying to think. “I met her over a year ago. Roughly. We worked together for about six months. Then tried to overthrow her and take her men. It didn’t go as plan. Some of her lieutenants did betray her, but they betrayed me too. I was run out of Mexico City, but I had decided to come back to Gotham anyway by then.” Jason softened his voice as he spoke the last part, staring at the ceiling. He had come back and organised the Siege, having all he needed in money and mercs to correctly put down Bruce.

He closed his eyes and tried to push down the sick filling in his stomach. “She’s not my ex,” Dick murmured after a while. Dick’s hand was laying in between them, and Jason felt their fingers brush as Dick lifted his arm to hold his stomach. “She’s… she’s not.”

Jason raised his eyebrow. “So she saw your bed…how?”

Dick shook his head. “We never dated.”

Jason had left it alone the night before, but he sat up and looked over to the other side of the bed where Dick had fallen asleep. Something about Catalina bothered Dick, and it was more than just his normal kind of bothered. He was bothered _by_ Barbara and bothered _with_ Bruce, but Catalina made him a different kind of bothered. Panicky.

But then again, he wasn’t quite sure of how much Dick had changed in the last five years. He had no idea who he was, just like he probably had no idea who Jason was anymore.

 _I’m just happy, Jay. I’m really stupid happy._ Jason’s gut clenched. Dick was acting happy now, but that was an instant reaction. He was certain the more his older brother found out, the unhappier he was going to be. Jason’s gut clenched at the sight of Dick, head tilted back and fast asleep with his longish hair messy around his head over the pillow. _I’m not him. I’m not your Jason,_ he’s snapped at Bruce back in Metropolis.

He closed his eyes and sighed, pushing down the twirling thoughts.

Jason moved to get out of bed and go to the bathroom, but his slight movement disturbed the original Robin and made him sit up. For a minute he stared at Jason in absolute shock, as the previous day’s events caught up to him and when he realised who had woken him up, he groaned and fell back against the pillows, throwing his arm over his face dramatically. “It’s too early,” he complained.

Jason smirked. No doubt, Dick had been doing night patrols for the last few months and anything before ten was painful. It was eight in the morning, and, used to early nights and earlier mornings, Jason’s body woke up like an alarm had sounded. He crept out of bed quietly, and went to the bathroom and washed his face.

When he got back out of the bathroom, Dick was on his side, cradling his phone to his face, eyes half shut. “I’ve got to go check on Tim,” Dick yawned, stretching out on his side. “He’s freaking out. B told him you were the Arkham Knight and he’s texted me fifty times to make sure we’re alive because Babs won’t text him back.”

Jason winced. He wasn’t going to murder everyone while they slept. A year ago he might have, but not… “Maybe… maybe you can come?” Dick asked. “Show him you’re not a threat?”

“Maybe you should talk to him on your own,” Jason said, not outright refusing.

“Well, it’s either you come with me, or you hang out with Babs and Bruce all day, and you’re very clearly avoiding them so…” Dick let it linger, a smile spreading out over his face as Jason realised that was horrifyingly worse than the chance of having a punch thrown at him by the Replacement.

“Yeah. Okay. Let me get dressed.” Jason ran a hand through his hair. Bruce wasn’t going to be happy, but Jason wasn’t going to talk to him. Not until he knew exactly what it was he needed to say.

Plus… he couldn’t deny the fact that the idea of sneaking out with Dick behind Bruce’s back was a little thrilling. “Remember when I was twelve and you taught me how to drive?” Jason asked.

The laugh that burst out of Dick was enough to bring a smile to Jason’s face.

And for a moment, he felt… normal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I think this is the last intense conversation chapter... everything from this point to the end is more action-driven, and a lot of on-going plots I've had are going to be tied up, and the next phase of plots is going to be set up.
> 
> Because think of it this way:
> 
> Or any misery you choose, Like you're giving up, So I take off my face (cause it reminds me how it all went wrong), and What have I become (my sweetest friend?), were setting up where everyone was at... (Something Pretty was a bonus story).
> 
> The next part is going to be a proper redemption arc for Jason, and the fact that he realises he needs redemption - for himself, more than for anyone else.
> 
> And it all begins with what happens next...


	7. Curse of Todd

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeere is an update!

Jason was panting like he’d run a marathon, staring at the ceiling in muted astonishment as Ariel fell onto the bed beside him, giggling as she nuzzled her face into his neck. He was a damn hero, and she made him breathless. He wasn’t sure as to  _how_  she’d managed that, but he wasn’t knocking it.

“Wow,” he said.

“Why thank you,” she laughed, crawling up his body and pressing her lips against his.

“You are welcome,” he replied with a quiet laugh. “I mean… I liked you, but I did not realise how much you liked me.” He grinned as she laughed louder and laid against his chest, squeezing him.

He wrapped his arm around her back as he tried to stop his happy chuckles. “You are kind of perfect, you know that?”

“I try,” Ariel sat up on her arms, hovering over him. “But you’re not giving yourself much credit. I enjoyed that a lot.”

“Yeah?” he asked, removing his arm from his eyes.

“Yeah.” She kissed him again, and they dissolved into giggles, all the nervous energy he’d felt through out the evening erupting from Jason’s chest. “You’re cute, Jason Todd.”

“Jason Wayne,” he corrected.

“You changed your name?” Ariel asked.

Jason nodded and cleared his throat. “Yeah. When I was adopted. Jason Peter Todd-Wayne, I guess. If you want to be technical, but um… I’m thinking of dropping the Todd altogether. Then changing my school records.” He blushed rubbing the side of his neck. “I um… don’t want to be a Todd anymore. Nothing good ever happened to me being a Todd, so I figured I might as well try being a Wayne.”

Ariel rolled her eyes, getting up and clutching the sheet to her chest. “That’s crazy that Bruce let you do that.”

 _Bruce let me do… what?_ Jason was still coming down from the euphoria and Ariel’s words didn’t quite click. “I mean… it was his idea. He told me to keep Todd if I wanted and, when I was twelve, I did. But now, it’s sort of meaningless to me.” He sat up too and glimpsed the clock. “Shit, speeches.” All thoughts of his surname disappeared as he remembered what he’d said to Alfred before he’d left. He climbed up out of bed hastily, searching for his underwear. “Dick and I promised to be on stage for speeches. Shit, where are my socks?”

Laughing, Ariel helped Jason look for his socks, and the conversation about surnames was forgotten. They helped each other get ready, Ariel doing up his cufflinks and Jason zipping up her dress. Though they were fast, they were still finding moments to touch each other and, in the privacy of a room, Jason found himself easing into her overwhelming touches. “I look a mess,” he laughed.

“Hmm, I like that. Keeps you looking mean.” She grinned pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“So you like me mean?” Jason asked, a little unsure. In Crime Alley, being mean wasn’t a good thing and he still had trouble knowing what the girls of Gotham’s upper crust liked in a man.

“I like you, Jason Todd. I think you’re cute.” She batted her dark lashes, and his hormones raged in his body. Cute hadn’t been what he was going for, but it would do.

 _This is amazing,_ he thought to himself, and he kissed her again before grabbing her hand and leading her outside. They kissed as they went back to the gala too, though it wasn’t so feverish as before and they reached the reception. The closer they got to the ballroom, the more the distance between them grew, but he figured, as the only daughter of the Crowne family, she wasn’t going to go out and publically post what she’d been doing with Jason.

He realised that he didn’t have much time left with her.  _It’s now or never._ “Hey, Ariel.” He stopped her before they entered the gala again. “Ah… this Friday night. What are you doing?”

Ariel’s flirty smile fell and was replaced by a frown. “Um… I don’t know. Hanging out with my friends.”

“Well,” he said unsurely. “How about instead you hang out with me?” I mean, the two of us could go for dinner or something… I know this cool burger joint down in the Narrows and–”

Ariel laughed, only it wasn’t the same flirty gentle laugh from before. Jason blinked, a strange feeling taking over his chest.  _Rejection,_ he thought.  _This is rejection._  “Um, I saw you talking to Dick earlier.”

Turned off by the mention of Dick, Jason bristled. “What does that have anything to do with it?”

“I just thought… Didn’t he tell you?” She tilted her head to the side curiously.

“Tell me what?” Jason asked.

Ariel’s face softened, and Jason felt ten years younger than he was under that gaze, her hand cupping his cheeks. “This was a lot of fun, Jason, and I think you’re really,  _really_  good in bed.” Her eyes travelled up and down his body and, instead of feeling the fire he’d felt before, he felt grossly exposed. “But you and I are totally different people. I’m a Crowne. That means something in Gotham. And I can’t just be dating any old street kid, even if you did get taken in by Bruce Wayne.”

Jason frowned. “Adopted. I was adopted,” he said hollowly, his body losing all warmth with every word she spoke.

Ariel shrugged. “Whatever. I know you’re trying to go by Wayne now and everything, but the fact is, you’re not a Wayne, and you can never be a Wayne. You’re a criminal kid from Crime Alley who got lucky when some creepy older guy took you in and didn’t want a photo. You’re hot Jason, but you’re not on my level. One day, I’m going to marry someone who was born into their pedigree, and you are going to do the same, and it’s silly to think otherwise.”

She was still holding Jason’s face, but he felt like he was miles away from her and staring at a completely different person. The white and gold dress seemed garish in the soft royal blues of the reception and Jason noticed for the first time since he’d met her that Ariel’s front teeth were crooked. “What was this?” he asked, still dumbfounded.

Ariel smiled. “Ask Dick.”

“Ladies and gentleman, if I could have your attention,” the host of the evening, Olivia Kane, Bette’s mom and Martha’s sister-in-law was already on the stage. “Thank you…”

Jason blinked out of his daze. “I have to go…” he said. “I’m supposed to be with my… with Bruce.”

He stepped away from Ariel and walked inside, the air-conditioned air blowing on his face and shocking him for a minute. He looked around and spotted Bruce, standing next to the stage and Dick just behind him, scanning the room. Jason had promised to go up on stage with Dick and Bruce because he’d wanted the photo of the three of them to be on the Gotham Gazette the next morning, but Jason found his feet frozen to the ground.

“Without further ado, I’d like to invite up an exceptional man of Gotham. The son of my dear friend, Martha and my nephew, Mr Bruce Wayne, and his sons, Richard and Jason.”

There was a rapture of applause and Jason couldn’t help but notice that Olivia had left the Wayne name off Dick and Jason’s introduction. Bruce and Dick climbed the stage, calmly, waving and smiling to the masses with an ease that came with growing up in the spotlight. Jason could never do that. Be at ease in a crowd.

But Bruce made it look easy.

_Because he’s a descendant of Gotham’s founders. Both of his parents were members of the founding families. He was twice blessed._

He was staring so intently, he almost missed Bruce catching his eye. He subtly raised his eyebrow so indecipherably no one else could tell except for Jason and probably Dick, Barbara, and Alfred. It was something Jason only understood because he was Robin.

_Are you coming?_

Jason shook his head, slinking back further against the wall. Bruce’s smile set into something forced and Jason knew that look too.

_Okay. We’ll talk about this later._

When the applause died down, Bruce began to talk about his mother and her love of children. In her life, she had started up an orphanage and opened a children’s hospital with her good friend Marla Elliot – another blue blood from a founding family. Jason’s cheeks flushed red as he wondered if Martha Wayne would have approved of her son adopting a criminal kid from Crime Alley. Or Thomas for that matter.

His eyes glazed over as he looked towards the Kane’s. He knew Phillip, Kate’s dad, never really liked Bruce, but was that because he didn’t adopt bluebloods? Did they worry about the pedigree of the children that their nephew was associating with?

It all made him feel sick and claustrophobic, and suddenly, he needed to get out of the room. He turned on his heel and stormed off, not seeing Bruce’s eyes following him all the way to the exit.

* * *

Getting out of the house had been surprisingly easy. Everyone was in the kitchen, so Dick and Jason snuck into the garage where they had their pick of twelve cars ranging from the non-descript Jeep Bruce and Jason had come to Mexico in, to a Ferrari 488 Spider convertible, in red.

“I mean,” Dick said. “We shouldn’t…”

“But we really should,” Jason breathed, already feeling the adrenaline rush.

A boyish smile crept across Dick’s face, his eyes alight with mischief. “Yeah, we really should.”

The boys had plenty of experience sneaking cars out of Bruce’s garage, but the place in Mazatlán had some bonuses. The garage doors weren’t rollers or anything that made noise, but electric sliding ones perfect for coming and going at all hours of the night for certain vigilantes. Dick opened the doors and as Jason put the top down of the car. He took off the parking brake and shifted the gears into neutral, then rolled the car out. The second bonus was that the garage to the front gate was all downhill, so Jason didn’t struggle to get it out as Dick closed the garage doors behind them.

They got the car out to the gate and Jason keyed in the password. “Where’d you park the jet, by the way?” Jason asked.

“In a farm, just outside of town. It’s in stealth mode. No one should notice.”

“Until a farmer walks into thin air,” Jason muttered.

“That actually wouldn’t be the first time that happened.”

Jason rolled his eyes, and once they had the car out of the gates, he climbed into the drivers and started the engine. “I am driving back,” Dick said as he jumped over the door and into the passengers.

“Where are we going?” Jason said, rather than outright tell him it was never going to happen. Dick took out his phone and looked at the address. “Um… Pueblo Bonito Emerald Bay.”

Jason scoffed. “Staying at some fancy-assed resort there, Timmy.” He turned on the engine and took off. Jason and Dick hit their heads on the backseat, and Jason grinned as the gentle purr of the engine sent a tingle up his spine he hadn’t felt in years. Cars hadn’t made Jason happy for a very long time, because through all his anger, he barely had time to appreciate anything.

Girls, cars, his favourite foods… None of that compared to his revenge. Jason wasn’t even sure how often he’d laughed in the last five years. Probably not genuinely for a long while. “I think I’m going to have to rearrange my Top Ten,” Jason said.

Dick was following the GPS on his phone. “Which Top Ten? Women, cars, or moments?”

“Maybe all three.”

Dick chuckled and looked down to turn on the radio. Jason felt a little anxious watching Dick and buttons. His older brother – when not in Nightwing mode – tended to press ones that he shouldn’t. He remembered them going to the computer store to buy a new laptop and Dick had set off all the security alarms because he found the button that detached all the locks on the tech. “Don’t–” Jason started, but it was too late.

Dick pressed a button on the console, and it took a moment to scan his fingerprint, a yellow light shining beneath his finger. “Nightwing identified.” The car lurched forward and sped up. Thankfully Jason was a good driver because he kept the car steady on the road as the roof closed above them, a second seatbelt strapped over their chests and the outsides changed from red to black, as the console flipped and transformed into a high-tech screen.

“Batmobile,” Dick and Jason breathed together.

“Yeah, definitely revaluating some Top Ten’s.” Jason grinned and was going to take off when Dick pressed the button again, shifting the car back to a red Ferrari. “Why’d you do that?”

“Yeah. Because the Batmobile randomly showing up in the south of Mexico won’t raise any suspicions about Bruce’s faked death.”

“Because leaving ‘Haven at the same time as Nightwing spends a few nights off the streets is going to be great for your reputation,” Jason countered.

“That’s handled. Roy has enough temporary hair dye to last him a fortnight, and he doesn’t  _like_  fighting with escrima sticks, but he owes me. It’s his version of rent.” Dick pointed to the road up ahead. “Turn left here.”

Jason did. “Roy’s living with you?” he asked.

Dick shrugged. “Mostly. Sometimes he lives with Wally. Sometimes Donna. Depends on who he’s willing to deal with. He came and stayed with me after the…” Dick trailed off and looked up at Jason. “After Halloween.”

Jason’s stomach turned, but he kept staring straight ahead. “He’s always been a good friend to you.”

Dick hummed. “In the beginning, we were the only sidekicks. Bruce adopted me, and a year later, Ollie took in Roy. Then there was Wally and Donna… Garth.” Dick paused, staring blankly at his phone for a moment, but softly smiled. “Now there are ten towers all around the world, and over a hundred active members. Most of them aren’t and have never been sidekicks. Some are adults. They put out as many fires as the League. And it all started with the five of us.”

Jason had been nine the first time he saw the Titans on the news. Years later he had seen a documentary on them, with the same video reel of their first mission, and he’d laughed that they’d called themselves The Titans when they were all so short. But at nine years of age, they had looked like giants. They were dripping wet and exhausted from their fight with Mister Twister and were looking around, waiting for something else to fly at them as the adrenaline rush wore down and they’d realised they won. When it clicked, they looked at each other and even before the first news report was published, you could see it in their eyes. They knew they’d done something special and Jason had been in awe of them.

Mostly though, Jason had been dumbstruck by Robin.

Robin had been the youngest at eleven, and Speedy – who later went by Arsenal – the oldest at seventeen, but with the most experience out of them all and his years’ training under The Bat, Robin had led the team. For a nine-year-old homeless kid who hadn’t grown all too fast pre-puberty, Robin was the ultimate hero to Jason. He was the shortest, the youngest, and one of two non-metas, yet the other four took orders from him amid a fight. They respected him. They even looked up to him, because Robin set a standard of how to be a superhero with dignity. How to fight for justice, yet be humble. Dick was punny and sarcastic mid-fight, and he took pride in who his talents but was never proud or boastful of his heroics.

(At least, not to the public or the cameras. Jason knew what it was like in the Titan Tower after a successful mission – whoops, and cheers, and play-by-plays like it was a football game, and they were in a locker)

When Batman offered Jason Robin, he had been so excited and eager. But alone at night, in the orphanage where Bruce made him wait until he could clear the legalities of his fostering someone with such a long juvie record, he’d panicked. He wasn’t sure how he could live up to the standard that was Robin. Jason had wondered if he’d automatically be put into a leadership role in the Titans, where he would have to tell other super-powered kids what to do. He hadn’t known straight away about Dick and Bruce’s fight or Robin’s transition to Nightwing, and it had all been so overwhelming that he knew Batman. He didn’t ask about it or explain his worry to Bruce in fear that Robin would be yanked out from underneath him before he got a proper foothold.

But then he’d met the first Robin. Selina had explained Jason why Dick was no longer Robin, and Dick had swiftly refused to let him near the Titans let alone lead his friends. Dick had been aggressive to Jason when they’d first met, even though there were moments he tried to like him.

(His refusal only lasted a month or two until he warmed up to Jason and invited him to the Tower, but made it very clear he would not give over his team… until a few years later when he revealed he’d been quietly training Jason to take over the Titans from him one day, a terrifying thought to a fifteen-year-old Jason)

It had been a welcome relief when Dick had refused him the Titans because Jason could never do that. He didn’t know how to oversee people’s life, and while he had great respect for the people who were, the idea of it frightened him.

Despite not ever wanting to be a leader, at some point, Jason’s literal hero worship of Robin had turned into hero worship of his big brother, Dick who was everything he had wanted to be one day. He would never admit it, especially to Dick, but Dick was the Golden Boy, perfect at almost everything, and charming enough that the things that he wasn’t good at weren’t a problem. People liked him before they spoke to him and he was so purely good that it was annoying sometimes.

“Here we are,” Dick said, and Jason had mindlessly been following Dick’s direction to the resort without speaking.

Jason blinked, no longer reminiscing as he realised, sitting next to Dick, how different they now were. A cop and a criminal. A saint and a sinner. The Golden Child and the Black Sheep.

_I will never be like him._

He pulled the car up into the driveway, and a valet came over to them, eyes hungrily staring at the car. “Come on. I got his room number,” Dick said.

Jason swallowed, fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter than they needed to. “I probably shouldn’t come up,” he said hoarsely, and Dick paused, frowning at him. “I um… I tried to kill him a few times, and there may trust issues.”

Dick hesitated momentarily but agreed. “Okay. But hang out at the bar or something. You got my number?” Jason nodded. “Okay. Text me, so I have yours, and I’ll call you when we’re done.”

Jason nodded, and got out of the car with Dick, handing over the car keys to the valet. He didn’t speak, and he pulled his hoodie tighter around him, wishing he’d used the face putty to cover the J up again as he dragged the hood over his head. “Hey,” Dick said, grabbing his arm. Jason flinched at the contact, but it only made Dick squeeze his arm tighter. “Jason? You okay?”

Jason nodded, brushing his hand away. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

Dick was staring at him like he was a wounded puppy and it killed him. Jason didn’t want Dick to look at him like that because it meant he felt bad for Jason when Dick was the last person in the world who should feel bad for him. “I’m fine.” He pushed Dick’s shoulder. “Go find Tim.”

Dick smiled, feeling a little better, and Jason watched him go towards the elevators. He wrapped his arms around his chest and went towards what the pool and its bar. It was nine a.m. but the holiday resort was selling liquor, and it had been a long while since Jason had something to drink. Or at least, long for him. Last time he drank was when he went out with Selina.

He ordered a beer, and charged it to Tim’s room confident that he could afford it, then felt a little guilty for it but only momentarily. He still wasn’t sure what he thought about the current Robin, but it was mostly bitter. He was his replacement. He was what Jason should have been. Timothy  _Wayne_. Jason was technically a Wayne, but he had lacked the courage to go out of his way and use the surname.

 _Ariel Crowne made sure of that,_  he thought bitterly.

It wasn’t even fair.

Tim was a blue-blood.

He had his parents. They were still alive. Janet and Jack Drake were in Spain just before Halloween. He knew because he’d checked when he was forming a backup plan to get Tim to betray Bruce.

But he was still Timothy  _Wayne._

He didn’t even use Drake anymore.

 _I should have stopped using Todd,_  Jason thought to himself, closing his eyes.  _I should have just told Ariel Crowne and all of those like her to screw themselves, and I shouldn’t have stopped believing in Bruce._

Jason blinked, having never thought that before.

Even in all the last how many weeks, Jason had not considered that he had done the wrong thing by falling into despair at the hands of The Joker. He had blamed himself for being by himself, but he had never considered that had he not stopped believing in Bruce, The Joker wouldn’t have been able to get into his head the way he did.

It only increased the ‘ _my fault, my fault,’_ radio static that played in his head all day, but it did ease up some of the underlying tension in his chest, and that was a welcome relief.

Jason looked up to the bartender and ordered a second round. Maybe Dick would get to drive the Ferrari/Batmobile home. Jason was looking forward to drinking away his misery.

He got through two more drinks waiting for Dick and Tim, lost in thought about staring between the rim of the bottle and ocean out in front of him. Maybe he was getting a little drunk because he felt light-headed and the idea of swimming was becoming more and more appealing. He even began to feel a little warm and smiled, wondering why he hadn’t tried alcohol before this.

The bar back in the house was stocked with everything.  _I could feel like this every day._

But he then imagined Bruce reading him the riot act for choosing to become an alcoholic instead of dealing with his shit. Not that Bruce was reading him the riot act at all. He hadn’t even mentioned that he was still smoking, despite their agreement.

 _I have him so worried, he’s letting me break promises,_  Jason thought a little bitterly. He didn’t want Bruce’s pity. He didn’t want Bruce’s guilt. Jason just wanted to feel normal again.

He ordered another beer when a hand fell on his shoulder.

He jumped, and half thought it was Dick and turned his barstool around to tell him off when his gaze met one blue eye and a black eye patch.

The grey hair and scent of gunpowder were familiar enough that it made all the beer Jason just drank rush up to his throat and he had to swallow it down. “Slade,” he said.

A smile broke out over the mercenary’s face, and a gun jammed into Jason’s back, covered by the line of Slade’s body from the public. “Long time, no see, kid. Who’d’ve thought that after all the crap you put me through, we’d be back here in South America?”

Jason’s mouth dried and he squeezed the empty beer bottle in his palm, ready to break it and shove it through Slade’s good eye. “How’d you get out of jail?” He had to get this right. The gun was jammed right into his back, and maybe he was a little drunk.

“I’ve been escaping prisons since before your mom learnt how to spread her legs,” Slade informed him pleasantly.

“And you just knew to come to Mazatlán to find me?” Jason said, angling his body so he could swing with the most damage. “You develop powers in lock up?”

Slade smirked. “Got a contract, and the contract had a lead that you were here. I saw you and the Cat a couple of days again then got word of she’d been around the resorts yesterday. Started scouring the hotels, and found a  _Wayne_  name here. Didn’t take a genius to know you’d show up at the bar.”

Jason cleared his throat. He wondered why villains monologued but stopped his thoughts when he realised he’d done it to Bruce a few months ago. “Hmm. Well. You found me.”

“Now get up nice and slow, and let’s get out of here. My contract says alive or heavily maimed, but if you don’t comply, I have a personal contract to take out your Dad. I’m guessing if you, Dick and Mini-Dick are here, that he’s not too far away? So don’t get creative with your drinks, or I will put them all down.”

Jason shivered and released the beer bottle, already planning something else to get away. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, Slade. You and me. Like old times.”

Slade nodded once and looked around. “Trust me, kid. This ain’t gonna be half as fun as old times.”

* * *

Dick felt uneasy about leaving Jason alone. He had been acting strangely, and Dick wasn’t entirely sure as to why.  _You barely know him anymore,_  a dark voice said in his head and he shook it away because it was Jason.

Jason who was bull-headed and aggressive and who could lash out, then turn around and be sweet and kind. Barely anyone knew about that side of him, and Dick couldn’t imagine it was completely erased, no matter what he’d gone through. He was still Jason. He’d seen that the night before.

Now he had to convince Tim of that.

His brother had a suite in the Penthouse, which was perfect for the son of the Batman because it had roof access. He knew Tim chose it so he could come and go whichever way he pleased because something was comforting about leaving through a window, especially when you were hounded by paparazzi day and night.

Dick reached the suite and knocked on the door, leaning in on the doorframe as he waited. “Coming!” Tim’s voice came out, and Dick waited for a few minutes before the youngest Robin opened the door and let Dick in. “Sorry. Came out of the shower.”

His hair was damp and stuck to his head, and his eyes were red. Tim looked exhausted. Dick didn’t hesitate in moving into Tim’s personal space and wrapped one arm around his shoulder and the other arm around his waist, not only grabbing him but forcing Tim to hold him back. Tim did, awkwardly albeit, but he sunk into it slowly.

Dick wasn’t sure when the last time he’d hugged Tim was.

He hadn’t seen him much since Halloween, neither boy ready to confront what happened yet.

Also, it had been awkward for Dick who hadn’t exactly told his kid-brother that he was in love with his fiancé.

He’d lost some weight, but that was to be expected. He was maybe, just a little scragglier than usual, and perhaps he felt a bit different in his arms, but it had been a long while.  “Come in,” Tim murmured, pulling away first. 

He always did. 

It took him a long while to get used to Dick’s constant affection and the fact he was always around. Tim appreciated it though. He’d told him as much a few times, and he’d grown more comfortable with people touching him as the years went on.  “I made coffee,” Tim said, walking in, expecting Dick to follow.

“Thanks. How you feeling?” Dick asked as he walked through the short obligatory hotel hallway, that hid a guest bathroom in the wall.

It opened into a living area, wide and spacious, that screamed penthouse. The bedroom was hidden from view behind rolling doors but there was a balcony that took up the whole of one wall and overlooked the beach. It was, in Dick’s opinion, quite beautiful, but a waste on Tim who had clearly not been enjoying any of it.

Dick went and sat down, Tim already had the coffee out and was pouring it from a plunger into a cup. “Thanks,” he said, taking a long-needed sip. Sneaking out had meant, getting out without getting his normal daily fuel.

Tim sat across from Dick, looking worse than he’d seen him in months. He had briefly heard through Kon that nightmares were plaguing the younger, but he hadn’t realised how bad it was until then. “I’m sorry,” Dick said.

Tim blinked twice before he looked at him. “What? What are you sorry about?”

Dick grimaced at the innocent perplexed features on Tim’s face. “I’ve been an asshole lately.”

Tim frowned. “No, you haven’t.”

“I haven’t been around, Timmy. I should have been around.”

Tim shook his head. “No. Honestly. It’s not– You have every right to be selfish right now, Dick. I’ve been selfish too, and it’s not up to you to pick up all the pieces every time something falls apart.”

“That’s what big brothers do,” Dick pointed out.

Tim nodded. “Yes. I suppose. But sons, especially those of a particularly stubborn asshole of a Bat, can be selfish. I had people, Dick. I  _have_  people. I know that you would have been there for anything else, but it was just because it’s Bruce.”

 _And Barbara,_ he reminded himself, but he shut that part of his mind down. He’d done it before. Hundreds of times. Whenever he saw Tim and Barbara together, he pushed down that part of himself that loved her into a vault and threw away the key. But it was so much harder since they got engaged… And _announced_ it.

Dick hadn’t even gotten around to telling anyone they were engaged before Barbara handed him back his mother’s ring.

“We need to talk about Jason,” Dick said, ignoring those memories.

Tim stiffened a little, but picked up his coffee cup and sipped it anyway. “I don’t know what you want me to say,” Tim murmured, not looking up from the cup.

“He’s my brother,” Dick said. “And this isn’t about Bruce. I’m… I’m not distracted anymore. My head back is back in the game. And first thing’s first is that Jason needs our help.”

Tim shook his head. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

“He’s your brother too. Legally.”

“He’s legally dead,” Tim snarled. Dick blinked, surprised at Tim’s strong reaction. He groaned and leant forward, pressing his eyes into his hands. “I don’t want to talk about this.”

Dick took a deep breath. “Well, we have to, Tim. This is our family.”

Tim lifted his head up, slipping his hand through his hair, messing it up. “No. It’s not.”

Dick leant back a little, not quite sure what to make of the look on Tim’s face. It wasn’t angry. It wasn’t annoying. It wasn’t malicious. But Dick’s saw traces of each emotion in the crooked unnatural lines that warped his brother’s face. “You know what, Dickie?” Tim chuckled. “If you’re going to defend _Jaybird,_ the lunatic who tried to kill us, then I’m not going to defend you. You should have been there. The old man died, and you just upped and went back to your tower in Blüdhaven, leaving me and sweet ol’ Babs to pick up the pieces.”

Dick’s stomach turned, and the picture of Tim and Barbara in the front page of Gotham Gazette came back to him. “Tim, you… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Tim shook his head. “Doesn’t matter anyway. I got back in touch with my parents. They’re coming to the wedding. They want to talk to me. They want a relationship with me, and they’re not going to fake their deaths because life got too hard for them. They’re also not going to choose the psychotic maniac who tried to kill my fiancé over me either.”

Dick put down his coffee cup. “No one is picking Jason over you.”

“Yes, they are,” Tim laughed, but not in the pleasant way he normally did. Dick liked the sound of Tim’s laughter. It always made him happy, but this was a cruel imitation of it. “And of course, they would. Who wouldn’t pick the prodigal son over his replacement that was never good enough?”

Dick’s jaw dropped. “You were – You _are_  good enough, Tim. No one has ever thought otherwise.”

“Please,” Tim spat. “I’m not as brave as Jason. I’m not as righteous or as good at sports as Jason–”

“Jason wasn’t as good as Science as you are, and I hate the English language as much as I hate Gotham’s criminals, Tim, but it’s not a competition on who got the most A’s,” Dick snapped, getting annoyed. “Don’t make it out like that, because we never felt that way.”

“You don’t hate Jason, all that much and he’s number one on Gotham’s most wanted,” Tim pointed out.

Dick was growing more and more frustrated. It was like punching a brick wall into submission. “It’s not a competition. Tim, we all love you,” he said, trying to remain calm.

“What about Jason. Does Jason feel like it’s a competition? Or does he know it is like I do?”

Dick had never seen this side of Tim before. A jealous, malicious version of himself, with anger painting everything. Tim wasn’t an angry person. Moreover, he was understanding. Maybe he didn’t forgive straight away, but he tried.

Tim always tried.

He put his coffee down and leant forward. “Tim, are you okay? This isn’t like you.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue again but shut it and glared at the carpet. He closed eyes, squinting them shut, and when he opened them again, the blue irises were remorseful.

“No. I’m… I’m not. I… since that night, I’ve…” He shook his head, eyes watering. He bent his head down, pressing his hands to his eyes again, and let out a small sob. Dick stood up, shocked by his complete one-eighty. He moved to sit next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulder.

He didn’t melt into Dick’s side the way Jason had the day before. He stiffened and pulled back first, but after Dick tugged him closer, his spine gave out. He leant against Dick, hands still covering his eyes. “Timmy. Talk to me,” Dick whispered.

Tim opened his mouth and shut it again a few times, battling with himself to find the perfect words to say. He drew breath as if to speak, but before he could let out the words, a scream and gunshots erupted from downstairs. Both boys tensed up, and Dick’s mind flew to one thing and one thing only. “Jason,” he hissed.

Tim got up first, wiping his eyes and went out to the balcony, Dick hot on his heels. The view overlooked the beach and the pool, and they looked down to see Jason, his red hood dragged over his head holding the broken ends of an umbrella, fighting against an older man with an eyepatch. “You brought Jason?” Tim asked incredulously.

“What the hell is Deathstroke doing here?” Dick asked at the same time. Dick ignored Tim’s question and looked down the side of the building. The balconies were tiered, giving Dick enough room to jump down between. “Tim, call Bruce,” Dick ordered him.

Without hesitation, he ran and flung himself off the edge, with the grace and balance his parents had instilled in him from childhood, and he landed in a roll on the next balcony down.

Dick continued leaping and running and falling, down each level as Jason and Slade’s fight echoed up from below. Hotel staff and tourists were fleeing the scene, and some other patrons were coming out to their balconies to see what was going on. Dick nearly collided with two of them, and he quickly apologised in English and Spanish, before flinging himself down again.

A scream made him stop in his tracks, and he hit the edge of the balcony with enough force that he’d feel it later. He looked over the railing, ignoring the strain in his muscles, and saw Jason, his arm tilted back painfully and Slade’s blade at his throat. “No,” he whispered.

Dick was close enough to the ground that he could land safely in the pool, but whether he could make it safely to the pool was a different story. Either way, Slade was pushing Jason towards the exit, and he needed to get there before his little brother was taken away from him again. He climbed up to the edge of the balcony and thrust himself forward.

Dick loved to fly.

More than anything in the world, he felt at home up in the air.

But falling was his greatest fear, and although he felt he’d angled himself enough to get to the pool, that fear overwhelmed him as his feet, aimed at the chlorinated blue, rushed to the earth.

He gasped, at the last possible second as his feet plunged in and before his arms had been submerged, he was already moving them to lift himself up. He hit the bottom of the pool, eyes wide open, but his blow had been softened enough that he was forced to squat before launching himself back up towards the edge. He grabbed the wall, pulling himself out and ignored the remnants of fear to pelt towards Deathstroke.

Of course, Jason and Slade had noticed his entrance and Dick, dripping wet, braced himself for a fight. The staff had all evacuated, and there was no one left in the lobby as Dick picked up the broken halves of the umbrella Jason had dropped and ran forward, bounding up into the air and landing in the way of Slade and Jason’s path out of the hotel. “You want him? You have to go through me.”

Slade laughed. “You know I already have him, right?” He pushed the knife up, pressing it into Jason’s chin and he gasped, getting up on his toes so he could get away from the steel. “One false move and Baby Bird is missing his throat,” Slade said. “Unless you want that. I mean, last time we were all together, he was telling me to make it hurt.”

Jason flinched and pushed back against Slade, and Dick realised he was trying to push him away. “Leave him alone. Let’s go, okay? Leave him alone,” Jason kept repeating, but Dick ignored him.

“Who ordered the contract?” Dick demanded.

Slade sneered. “Mercenary-client privilege.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I’ll double it.”

“I took that deal once before, for him. Know where it landed me? Gotham Penitentiary.”

“You were still working for Joker, so it doesn’t count,” Jason growled, but the knife pressed further into his throat.

Dick huffed. “Take me instead.”

“Not that kind of contract, kid. She wants Jason.”

“She? As in Catalina?” Jason tilted back his head to look at Slade.

Catalina.

Dick’s stomach turned, and his whole world tilted backwards on a different axis, making his head spin.

_All you have to do is get out of my way._

_It’s never going to stop._

“Yes.” Slade interrupted Dick’s spin out and pulled tighter on his grip of Jason. “She’s not happy that you’re back in Mexico. Especially not after she had to behead ten of her best men for betraying her last time you were here. She put a large reward on your head, and I took it.”

“They weren’t really  _her_  men if it took me giving them a few thousand each to betray her. I did her favour really.”

“You can debate it with her later,” Slade spat. “For now…” He turned his attention back to Dick and pressed the knife up into Jason’s throat. “Do I kill him in front of you or do I let Catalina do it behind closed doors where no one’s watching? Up to you, John. I mean,  _Dick_.”

_Stop!_

The feeling of blood sliding over leather wasn’t one he could ever forget. He closed his eyes for a second to regain his breath, and he knew both Slade and Jason could see him freaking out but he had it handled a heartbeat later. “I trained Catalina,” Dick said, lowering his weapons to his side. He dropped both halves of the umbrella and relaxed as much as he could, holding his hands out in front of him. “Take me. Cuff me. Knock me out if you want. I can reason with her.”

Slade rolled his eye. “You’re not the mission.”

Dick reached into his pocket and took out his phone that was, mercifully alright. Too many dives into Blüdhaven River made him waterproof  _everything_. “New mission. Take me with Jason to Catalina. Ten-thousand.” He tapped into his accounts, thanking his lucky stars that he was adopted by one of the richest men in the world. “You take us both to Catalina. Alive, and unharmed. I’ll reason with her.”

“Dick,” Jason started, but he was cut off by Slade’s arm around his throat. Dick ignored him as Slade considered Dick’s features.

“I won’t fight you,” Dick added. “I won’t speak if you don’t want me to. But one press of this button, and we come willingly.”

Slade narrowed his eye and glanced at the phone, looking at the numbers on the screen. “Make it a hundred thousand, and you have yourself a deal.”

“Ass!” Jason yelped but Slade tightened his arm, and the knife drew blood.

Dick just typed in the new number and showed it to Slade again. Slade took his phone and typed in his bank details, and Dick took it back and approved it. “Done.” Dick showed the money transfer, and Slade pocketed the knife and took out his own phone and confirmed the cash was there. Then he held out his hand. Dick knew what came next. He gave his phone over, and Slade threw it across the room, then did the same to Jason’s. Slade let go of Jason’s arm, shoving him towards Dick and Dick barely caught him before Slade was upon them with handcuffs. He cuffed them together with one set, then their arms behind their backs with a second pair each.

“Just to be safe,” Slade said, then shoved the boys together towards the front. Dick reached his hand out and grabbed Jason’s hand. It was uncomfortable, but he squeezed it to reassure the younger that Dick had a plan. “Come on boys. We’re going on an adventure.” Dick heard the elevator doors ding open and looked back to see Tim, watching him with panicked eyes, holding a phone to his cheek.

 _You’ll find us,_  Dick thought to himself.

Because if he couldn’t convince Catalina, they were going to need some help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tell me what you think... grammatical errors and such... Or if you hate me, because you figured it out.
> 
> P.S. If you haven't watched Avengers: Infinity War, you sweet innocent precious thing.
> 
> I'm not going to spoil it for you, but I'm not going to be okay again until Part 2 comes out... I'm too excited/sad/giggly/exhausted over my mind being blown yesterday by the movie.
> 
> Gah! It's so good!


	8. Gone Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's late! I thought I pressed 'Post' yesterday, and then I was wondering why no one was reviewing...

Bruce got off the stage and looked around, searching for Jason. He’d seen him disappear in the crowd, and Dick had gone after him as soon as they’d finished speeches, but he had hoped he hadn’t left for the evening altogether. He shook hands and chatted with a few reporters who crowded around him until he spotted Barbara, talking with Luke Fox. He managed to dodge all the warm wishes from old friends of his mother, and questions from the press and got to Barbara’s side. “Good evening, Luke. Sorry to interrupt, but Barbara, have you seen Jason?”

Barbara looked around, as if he was somewhere behind her then shook her head. “I haven’t seen him since Dick and I were up on the balcony.”

Bruce nodded and looked around again. “Can you help me find him? He looked… unwell.”

Barbara agreed, handing over her clutch to Luke. “I’ll look around. Luke needs to go talk to Doctor Langstrom because he’s on the board of Gotham U, but I will definitely help.” She looked at Luke rather insistently, and he gave her a pointed look in return, filled with annoyance. A silent argument occurred between their eyes and Bruce felt… more awkward than he usually did in social situations with people he counted as _friends_.

“I’ll go chat with Langstrom,” Luke said, his voice clipped. He turned and looked up at Bruce. “Then I’ll help find Jaybird.”

Bruce shook his head. “It’s not urgent. I want to make sure he’s okay. I’m going to look around here first. When you’re both done with Langstrom, could you go ask reception if he’s left?”

“Will do, B.” Barbara touched his shoulder and smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll find him.” With that, she took Luke’s hand and slipped into the crowd. Bruce warily left Lucius alone, making a note in the back of his head to talk to his contacts at Gotham University for Luke. He knew about Batman, and who Dick, Barbara and Jason were, and Lucius was worried about how much it excited him.

He made Bruce promise that he would never recruit Luke into the vigilante life and Bruce agreed, but he could see the eagerness in Luke’s eyes sometimes and knew that even if he didn’t give him a chance, somehow that boy would find his own way to wear a mask. That was why Barbara was keen to get him into Gotham University, and Bruce didn’t want Lucius worrying any more than he already did for his son.

He walked around the gala, searching every corner, nook and cranny for Jason, running into Dick who seemed to be doing the same. “I think he might have had an encounter with Ariel Crowne,” Dick said, his voice slow and low as if he was trying to avoid the topic.

He remembered Barbara’s earlier comments on Dick having slept with a she-witch and held up his hand. “I don’t want to know,” he said. “Barbara’s already told me more than I’m comfortable with.”

Dick blushed bright red and shook his head. “I can’t find him anywhere. I think he might be upstairs somewhere.”

“I’ll call you if I spot him,” Bruce said, deciding to back off and let his sons deal with whatever was going on between them.

He left Dick alone and began to walk towards the bar, desperately in need of a drink to get rid of the idea of his sons arguing over sleeping with the same girl, when a boy no older than thirteen ran into him, spilling a glass of lemonade all over his shirt. “I’m sorry!” he chirped, quickly grabbing a napkin from one of the tables and dabbing it over Bruce’s shirt. “I’m so sorry, sir. I didn’t mean to. I-I really didn’t…”

Two big blue eyes looked at him, and Bruce froze in place, stunned by the tiny human in front of him. The boy, no older than thirteen reminded him of Jason and Dick, with his jet black hair. But the blue of his eyes were so pale they were almost grey. Bruce couldn’t help but smile at the boy, who reminded him so much of Dick and Jason that it made his heart pang for the days when they were children. “It’s alright. Lemonade doesn’t stain,” he said, patting the kid's shoulder. He took the napkin from him and dabbed out the excess wet. “See? You can’t even see it.

When the kid looked up at him, his eyes bugging out of his head. “Y-You’re… You’re B – Bruce Wayne.” The kid gasped.

Bruce smiled a little and nodded. “I think that’s what they call me.”

“Your son is Jason Todd,” he whispered as if it was a secret. “And Dick Grayson. From the Flying Graysons!”

“Yes, they are.” He looked at the kid and how small he was. He would have been young the last time the Flying Grayson’s were around. “You know the Flying Grayson’s?”

The boy nodded. “Yeah. I saw them. Just… just before.” He deflated a little, frowning, but perked up again. “I have a photo with Dick and his cousin, John! I was only four, but it’s on my desk!”

Bruce considered the young teen who wasn’t staring at him at all like most teenagers looked at Bruce Wayne. No, he was staring at him in the same manner children looked at Batman. In awe and wonder. “What’s your name?” Bruce asked.

“T-Timothy Jackson Drake,” he replied, nervously. “Tim.”

Bruce held his hand out and Tim eagerly took it and shook it. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Tim. Now tell me, if I gave you my email address, could you send me a copy of that photo? It would mean a lot to Dick if he could see it. He doesn’t have that many photographs with his family.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “I have a photo with his whole family too! And one of just them. I can send them all!”

Bruce smiled, taking out his card and handing it to the boy who stared at it as if it were the Wonka’s Golden Ticket. “That would be nice, Tim.”

Tim blushed when he looked back up at Bruce and bit his lip as if thinking something over. When he finally looked back up at Bruce, he inched closer and lowered his voice. “Jason is probably up on the roof.”

Bruce raised his eyebrows up in surprise. “How do you know that?”

“Well… my house isn’t that far away from yours, and my bedroom faces that direction. If I look out with my telescope, I can see your roof and Jason is always out there. Usually crying. He used to smoke a lot out there too, but I think he’s quit that now. I figure that’s where he goes when he’s upset and he looked _really_ upset when he just came in.”

It was a little unnerving how much this young man seemed to be watching their house, but there was something about him that captured Bruce’s attention in the same way his sons had. He wasn’t mad or even worried about him. He was curious as to what else he could do.

“I’ll pass on the message to Dick,” Bruce said.

Tim nodded, leaning on the backs of his feet shyly. “Okay.”

Bruce was about to ask Tim just how often he spied on Wayne Manor when he smelt a flicker of amber and rose oil and his brain immediately whispered _Talia_.

He looked up and saw another glimpse of her, pushing her way through the crowd. Once might have been a mirage, but twice…

Bruce looked down at Tim and smiled. “It’s been a pleasure, Timothy. But I just remembered, there was someone I needed to speak with.” Bruce held out his hand and Tim stared at it like it was a golden treasure.

“O- O… Okay, Mr Wayne, sir.” He nervously shook Bruce’s hand and looked like he was going to nod his head off in the process.

Bruce would have normally told the kid to relax, but he had more pressing things to get around to. He turned to follow Talia, wherever she went, to find out why she was there. If he had paid more attention to Tim, however, he would have seen his tiny lips move and the words he whispered as Bruce left. “Thank you, Batman.”

* * *

Bruce and Barbara had shared a quiet coffee at the small dining table in the kitchen. Neither of them spoke much, having no real need to, until Alfred returned from his outing to buy groceries for breakfast. “You didn’t have to, Alfred,” Bruce said. “There’s food in the fridge.”

“Has it really been so long that you’re going to try to argue with Alfred over him cooking something?” Barbara asked.

The Butler gave her a look as if to say _listen to the girl_ , and Bruce sighed and leant against the table. “You’re right, of course. Alfred, can I help?”

Alfred looked down his nose at Bruce with a withering look. “From you? Please don’t take this the wrong way, Master Bruce, but no. I’m more than capable preparing breakfast for this family. Just entertain yourselves.”

Barbara smirked into her coffee. Watching Bruce get scolded by Alfred was always something that brought great joy to his children, Barbara included. Bruce didn’t like to argue with him about domestics with him, and after the last few weeks of doing it on his own, he had even less of a reason to argue with him.

Selina came down once the smell of food wafted upstairs and went to the coffee machine without speaking. Bruce smiled. No one talked to her, knowing there was no point until she drank her morning caffeine. It made him happy. It was his whole family back under one roof.

Well almost. He had to bring Tim home, sooner rather than later.

She slid into the chair next to him, steaming mug of coffee and sipped at it before laying her head on his shoulder. “Why does food have to be so early?”

“It’s almost ten,” Barbara snorted.

“Early,” she complained.

“Master Bruce, if you would go collect Masters Dick and Jason? Breakfast will be ready in a moment.”

Bruce nodded and slid out from beneath Selina as her and Barbara caught up. For a while, after Barbara had become Oracle, Selina had joined the Birds of Prey. He liked that they got along. He liked that Selina got along with all of the Batfamily, including his cousins, Kate and Bette – often better than he did. He paused at the doorway as he remembered Kate. “Barbra,” he said, turning around. Barbara hummed, looking over her shoulder at Bruce. “How was Kate’s engagement?”

Barbara shrugged. “I don’t know. She postponed it until further notice.”

Bruce added it to the list of things he had to feel bad for. Kate and Maggie were good together. He liked her better than Renee at least, who had a tendency to lead Kate into darker, more dangerous situations as Batwoman and in her civilian life. “I’ll give her a call,” Bruce said. “Let her know I’m okay.”

Barbara nodded. “You should do that.”

He continued upstairs, walking up the wrap around stairs and to the rooms. When he’d gone to check on Jason in the middle of the night, he’d found Dick in his bed. They were sleeping head to foot, but Dick had his hand on Jason’s thigh and Jason had settled his hand over Dick’s holding onto him.

Bruce smiled, thinking he may walk into a similar sight, but as he quietly opened the door, he realised something was wrong.

For the second time in as many days, Bruce walked into Jason’s room and it was empty. His heart jackhammered in his chest and he turned on his heel and went straight downstairs, opening the garage door and seeing that the Ferrari was missing. _Dick,_ Bruce thought angrily.

He had told him! He said it wasn’t up for debate! Bruce went back to the kitchen with his phone, and he must have looked like a dark storm because Selina, Barbara and Alfred all looked up with matching worried looks. “What’s going on?” Selina asked.

“Dick took Jason on a joy ride,” Bruce snapped. “They weren’t in their rooms and the Ferrari is missing. It’s like they’re fifteen again.” Though, he wasn’t entirely sure which time. When Dick was fifteen, or when Jason was fifteen.

Then he remembered it was the Ferrari that was gone. _Jason. Definitely Jason._

He picked up his phone and was about to dial Dick when the phone began to ring. Bruce narrowed his eyes at the US number, not entirely paying attention to it, and answered. “You and Jason need to come home right now before I come out and drag you back myself,” he snapped.

“He took him!” A panting voice came through the phone. “I followed but… I couldn’t keep up the whole… way!”

Bruce froze, looking back down at his phone and finally recognised the number for who it actually belonged to. “Tim? Who took who? What’s going on?”

“Dick!” Tim shouted. “Slade, I mean. Deathstroke took Dick. And Jason. Or maybe Jason took Dick… I don’t know. Dick’s gone! I couldn’t keep up with the van and I don’t know where they’ve gone!”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce said, ignoring the matching looks of confusion he was being given from Selina, Barbara, and Alfred.

“No!” Tim shouted. “You can’t. This place is crawling with police. I’m just hacking in now to scrub clear any pictures of Dick jumping off the building to go after Slade, but everything here is still crazy, and you’re dead. I’m coming to you.”

“Tim!” Bruce shouted but Tim hung up on him, sounding as frantic as ever.

“What’s going on?” Barbara asked.

“Dick and Jason were kidnapped by Deathstroke,” Bruce said.

Selina stood up and Barbara wheeled her chair back. “I need a computer,” she said immediately and Dick and Bruce leant over to grab the laptop as Selina grabbed Barbara’s chair. “No. Not that thing,” Selina said. She pulled Barbara’s chair back. “I don’t think you’ve really searched this place, Bruce.”

Bruce frowned and followed Barbara and Selina into the living room, with Alfred trailing behind having turned off all the stoves. In the living room, Selina planted Barbara’s chair in front of one of the bookshelf-lined walls. “I was… researching,” Selina said, going to the wall opposite where there were even more books and a half globe light on the wall.

 _Casing the joint,_ Bruce supplied mentally.

She took out a leather-bound book and from inside, took out a circular glass with a shadow in the shape of a Bat. Selina took the cut out and slid it into the globe, then nodded to the curtains. “Cut the lights.”

Losing his patience, Bruce almost didn’t do what she asked, but Barbara was already rolling to the closest window and Alfred had taken the balcony, so he went to the doors that led into the dining room and shut them. The room had curtains that could dampen light and shrouded them in darkness. Selina flicked on the globe light and a shadow, like the batsignal, but inverse, burnt across on the bookshelf opposite. Each of the points of the ears and the wings lined up precisely with the little reflective surfaces on the shelf, and as each of them lit up, Bruce heard the doors _click_ on the other side.

The bookshelf split in half, and the inside, a long staircase leading down to what Bruce assumed was a duplicate of his cave, lit up with torch flames. “It’s a bit excessive if you ask me,” Selina said.

“It’s very Talia,” Barbara replied. “And oh look. No stairs. She hated me, didn’t she?”

Bruce ignored her, his anxiety multiplying with every minute Jason _and_ Dick were gone. _Two sons. I’ve lost two sons._ He walked over to Barbara and she unbuckled her own straps in preparation, silently nodding when he approached, seeing the look on his face. He lifted her up and took her down the stairs, very much expecting Selina and Alfred to follow with the chair between them.

He was well ahead of them though, in the cool cavern that Talia had hollowed out beneath the house, she very clearly built for them, when Barbara put her hand on his chest, over his racing heart. “We’ll get them back, Bruce. Nothing is going to happen.”

He tensed up even more.

Barbara had said a version of those very same words when he’d first realised that Jason hadn’t just gone to cool off. “Dick is with him,” she added, as if she was in his head, reading his panicked thoughts. “He won’t let anything happen to Jason.”

Bruce agreed that Dick wouldn’t, but he didn’t want Jason’s safety to come at the cost of Dick’s.

The cave Talia had designed for them was much smaller than the cave beneath Wayne Manor, but it was just as well equipped. There were more specific weapons there, and a more extensive range of shurikens, bos, katanas, sais, swords, copies of Dick’s escrima sticks and nunchucks.

There was another training area, with targets and a gymnasium fit for an Olympic level acrobat. _Everything,_ Bruce thought to himself. _You thought of everything._

Bruce went and put Barbara in the chair at the computer and she turned it on. “If I can get into the Batcomputer’s from this thing, I can tap into the satellites and find where they went.”

“Do it.” He looked over his shoulder and Selina had opened Barbara’s chair, having collapsed it upstairs. Bruce didn’t bother helping Barbara into the seat. “I’m going to go collect Tim,” Bruce said, needing to get out of the cave, and he took the stairs two at a time to get back up to the room.

Maybe it was because it wasn’t _his_ cave, but being down beneath the house didn’t bring any comfort to Bruce. It didn’t get rid of the anxiousness that grabbed at his chest and told him it was all happening all over again and he almost stumbled as he reached the living room, finding hard to inhale.

“Bruce.”

He spun around and there was Selina, eyes big and open and sad… She was sad for him. For Bruce. Jason and Dick… Jason was _gone_ and she was sad for him! “I quit,” Bruce said. “I walked away. They weren’t supposed to find us. We were supposed to be safe here.”

Selina softened, walking across to him and wrapping her arms around his neck, cupping his face. “They’re together. If they’re together, they’re safe,” she whispered. “Dick and Jason won’t let anything happen to one another. You know that.”

Bruce licked his lips and found himself pressing his head to Selina’s, eyes shutting as his brain began to tick over. She was right. As long as they were together, they were safe. They were both adults, and they were both capable of looking after themselves and each other and he had to keep reminding himself of that.

He blinked his eyes open and pulled back. “No one knew Dick was coming here,” Bruce said.

Selina raised her eyebrow. “What?”

Bruce knew he was skipping some steps in his speech, but Selina had known him long enough to follow along with his train of thought. “Deathstroke is a mercenary before he’s anything else. Even if he wants to take his vengeance on Jason for embarrassing him in the Siege, he would only take Dick now if he had a contract on them both. No one knew they were both here.”

“So who could’ve taken a contract out on the both of them?” Selina asked.

“No one,” Bruce murmured. “If the contract were for Dick, Jason would have killed Slade to get him out of it. But if the contract were on Jason, Dick would have done whatever he could to make sure neither of them was hurt. He took a contract out on himself.”

“Dick took a contract on himself?” Selina asked.

“He took a contract on himself,” Bruce repeated. The doorbell rang and he let go of Selina but didn’t move. “To take him to wherever Jason was going.” His brain began to work overtime. “Track Dick’s bank accounts.”

“Dick’s bank accounts?” Selina asked.

Bruce nodded. “To get Deathstroke to take him, Dick would have had to pay Slade. The transaction can be traced. If Slade used the same account, he used to take Jason’s contract we can–”

“Find out who took the contract on Jason. I’ll tell Barb!” Selina called out, already running back down the stairs.

Bruce went to the front door. He pulled it open and Tim was standing there with the Ferrari parked in front of the house. “I looked through the car already. I couldn’t find anything. I did find where Slade threw their phones, but they’re smashed. Maybe we can find out how Jason contacted Deathstroke and–”

Bruce had been taking the phones off a manic Tim when he froze, hearing what he’d said. Cold fear ran through his him. “Jason contacted Slade?”

Tim froze and looked up at Bruce, big cerulean eyes frowning. “Well… isn’t it obvious? How else would Deathstroke know Dick was here?”

“You said Slade took them both,” Bruce said.

Tim shook his head. “I don’t know what I saw. Dick jumped off the balcony like a madman, and the elevators were jammed with panicked tourists. I just saw them all walking out together and it looked like Jason was holding Dick.”

Even though Bruce didn’t believe it, he couldn’t help but see images Red Hood kidnapping Barbara. He shook the image out of his head. “Jason was kidnapped,” Bruce said, ending the argument. “He didn’t kidnap Dick.”

He turned around and Tim, still in the doorway snapped. “Are you not even going to _consider_ your prodigal bird who has tried to kill me, multiple times by your own account, and who brought Gotham spectacularly to its knees isn’t capable of kidnapping your eldest?”

Bruce froze, halfway back to the living room and ground his teeth together. It was Tim. His youngest, and he loved him, but he argued with him as much as he did with his elder sons. Bruce wouldn’t turn around. He refused to. “It’s not logical. Jason doesn’t need help kidnapping Dick. So why would he wait until the morning after spending the whole night with him alone, then drag him to a hotel where _you_ are staying only to get assistance in snatching him with a hotel full of witnesses.” Bruce turned and glared at Tim. “I understand you have a grudge against Jason, and I don’t blame you. But if you’re going to be here and help us, leave your feelings out of it. I’ve told you many times before; they cloud your judgement.”

Tim flinched like a slapped child, and his cheeks flushed red under Bruce’s glare. _Don’t take it out on him,_ a voice that sounded remarkably like Dick’s echoed in his head. But Dick wasn’t there. Dick was gone and Bruce needed to find him.

“Follow me,” Bruce said. He walked into the living room and he could feel Tim gaping at the cave entrance.

“Talia really did think of everything,” Tim murmured, mimicking his own thoughts from earlier.

Because Tim was his son and no matter how much he wanted to strangle each of them – Dick for taking Jason, Jason for leaving again, Tim for choosing now of all times to show his paranoia – no one could harm them.

* * *

It was an hour later that Barbara had managed to confirm Bruce’s contract theory. There was a money transfer of one hundred thousand dollars from Dick’s offshore account to Slade’s and that was all Barbara needed to find another money trail. The money led back to a series of false identities and Bruce grew more and more frustrated with each name.

“Ebony Lobo,” Barbara said. “That’s the last name, Bruce, and it’s obviously fake.”

Bruce frowned and leant over Barbara’s shoulder, reading the file. Tim had, at some point, changed into his Robin gear, having brought along a bag of his things. He was looking through known safe houses of Deathstroke in Central America. Bruce re-read the name and followed the money trail again. He traced to the path it left on the map and murmured quietly. “Ebony Lobo… Black wolf. Did you know that when settlers came to America, they didn’t realise that what we now call wolf spiders and tarantulas were different breeds? So for a long while, the black wolf spiders were also called…”

“Tarantula,” Barbara murmured, typing away and pulling up Catalina Flores’ records. Catalina's tenure as Dick’s protégé had happened not long after Dick and Barbara had broken up. Dick had been twenty-one at the time, and he had broken up with Barbara just as silently as they had gotten together a year or two before. He wasn’t sure as to why, but Bruce did know that whatever it was that had split them up didn’t stop Nightwing from asking Oracle to cover up evidence from Batman.

He hadn’t looked into it. He’d asked Clark if Dick had spoken to him, but the Kryptonian had promised he hadn’t. If it was terrible, Dick always talked to Clark, so he tried to listen to Dick’s pleas of keeping out of his private life and stayed out of it. “Got her,” Barbara said. Tim rolled his chair over and Selina looked up from the weapons cabinet. “Mexico City.”

“That matches with what I just found on Jason,” Tim said.

Bruce snapped his head to his youngest who was already back in front of his computer, pulling up records. He pulled up a newspaper report of a fire in Mexico City dated from two years previous. “According to this article, a gang war erupted in Mexico City between different factions of the same gang, The Tarantulas. A lot of people got killed when some of the Lieutenants tried to take her out. Now according to the police reports, they were bribed by a man named _Jota_.”

“Why are you looking into Jason?” Bruce asked.

Tim shook his head. “Because it looks like Jason had safe houses in Mexico City. I followed bank accounts that the Arkham Knight was tied to a few weeks ago and found a lot of this stuff. Safe houses all over the world and his one in Mexico is in the centre of the city. It’s the closest one to here, so if it isn’t Tarantula, and Jason has kidnapped Dick, I bet you we can find him there.”

“Can you stop?” Barbara snapped. Tim turned and glared at her, but she matched his stare. “This is bad enough as it is. We have confirmation that Dick sold himself to Slade, and now you’re acting like this because… I can’t believe that you’re acting like this _now_. While Jason _and Dick_ are with Deathstroke.” Barbara shook her head in disgust and turned to Bruce. “If you start flying now, you can get there in three hours. I’ll confirm Tarantula’s hideout in the meantime.”

Bruce nodded. “Robin, Catwoman, I need both of you to come with me.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Selina replied. “But are you going as Bruce or as Batman?”

Bruce considered the question and thought of thing he’d found. “Neither.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading as always.
> 
> Review if you wish. :)


	9. Search

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I should explain to you... I volunteer at Sydney Writers Festival, and we're at peak festival time at the moment, so that's why I've been a bit delayed in my usual 48-hour post cycle. 
> 
> But in the last few days, I've met Jesse Andrews, Billy Griffiths, Katy Tur, Shastra Deo, Sam Dastayari (Australia Politician), Alexis Okeowo and saw French President Macaron... Also the Australian Prime Minister but I have zero feelings towards that. Anyway, two days of the festival left... Both woo! and :( Love Writers Festival...

Barbara had to drag Luke towards Doctor Langstrom physically.

In general, Barbara wasn’t a pushy girlfriend.

She didn’t care a great deal whether or not Luke went to college, other than it would be disappointing that Lucius would be so upset about it. What she did care about were his _alternative_ plans.

“We can do this later,” Luke complained, stopping short of Langstrom. “Shouldn’t we be looking for Jason?”

“I’ll look for him. You go talk to Langstrom.”

“Barbara.”

“ _Luke_ ,” she said more pointedly. She glared up at him and considered how unfair it was that both Dick and Luke were taller than her when she was the one who doled out the most lectures. “Can you just do this?”

Luke looked pissed, and Barbara sighed, realising it was not her night. First her weird conversation with Dick, then her argument with James and now… “Please talk to Langstrom. For your Dad, if for nothing else. He made me promise I’d get you in front of him.”

That won Barbara’s argument. He didn’t look at her as he walked to Langstrom and Barbara deflated just a little, relief bubbling up inside of her. Luke was crazy smart, in ways that she just wasn’t. Barbara could hack anything, but Luke could build whatever he dreamt up, and build it better than his father could.

The problem was that Luke wanted to do more than build gear for Batman and his cohort.

She followed him through the crowd and, like that, Barbara switched from annoyed girlfriend to loving and supportive partner. She’d watched Barbara Senior do it hundreds of times when she was a kid. She snapped from sniping at Jim to complimenting the commissioner on her new earrings – bought with payoffs from the mob, of course, which she would laugh at and somehow make the room laugh out despite her husband’s apparent discomfort.

They had tried to make it work, for James and Barbara’s sakes. But somewhere along the way, Barbara Senior had stopped plastering on a fake face, and packed up her bags and left for Chicago without warning her husband or their children the Christmas before Barbara’s seventh birthday.

She wasn’t her mother. Sure, she could be polite and charming when she needed to be, but she wasn’t enigmatic, or instantly likeable. She had friends, but they’d all taken a while to warm up to her. Even Dick had argued with her for a long while, though some people said their teasing and prodding of each other was young love.

But she wasn’t built to be an arm piece.

Barbara blinked when Doctor Langstrom said her name and realised she had been mindlessly speaking and interacting while lost in thought, a trick Bruce had taught her. She smiled and laughed politely and, in a few minutes, it was over. A good word was going to be put into the college board on Luke’s behalf, and maybe a small contribution to the college's new library wouldn’t go astray, which Lucius could organise.

After saying goodbye to Langstrom. Barbara led the way out of the ballroom and to the reception. She glimpsed Dick’s back at the counter when Luke took her by the hand and led her to a corner of the room where they had privacy, as long as no one walked around the reception and towards the elevators. Then the Lady Palms and massive pylons that held up the building wouldn’t be able to cover them.

“Can we talk?” Luke hissed. “About your push for Gotham U?”

Barbara’s stomach flipped. “Luke–”

“No, listen. I need to clear something up for you, and for my Dad. Even if I make it into Gotham University and get on the course to becoming the world’s next greatest inventor, that’s not going to stop my plans to fight alongside you and Batman,” he whispered the last part, angry eyes staring her down.

“Luke,” Barbara bemoaned.

“No! And I thought you, of all people, would support my decision in this!”

That annoyed Barbara. She wasn’t a fan when people told her what to feel. “Why would I do something stupid like that?” she hissed back at him.

Luke glared at her. “I don’t know? Because you’re Batgirl? You just wore tights and a Batman t-shirt and jumped into the fight when you were eleven?”

“I was a stupid kid,” Barbara snapped. “And I was stubborn as hell and didn’t take Bat’s instructions to _stand down_ easily. Now I’m too far in this to get out. But you aren’t. You have options.”

“Not for this, I don’t. I know this is what I was meant to do with my life.”

Barbara flashed back to another night when Dick came in through her window, a bloody mess and sprawled out on her lap on the bed. He reached his hand up and clutched the back of her neck so she couldn’t move her eyes from his. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself,” she had whispered to him. “And you want to be a police officer? You’re painting targets on your back, Dick.” He was still mourning Terra, Garth, Tula and all the other Titan’s he’d lost over the years. Every time a new one died, Dick pushed himself to remember the old ones and lived with ghosts in his head.

“This is what I’m meant to do,” Dick replied, blood splattering his lips. “This is who I am.”

She’d broken up with him a few weeks later.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Barbara whispered to Luke.

Because Barbara was more like her mother than she liked to acknowledge. Barbara Senior had left Jim, Barbara, and James before she could get hurt. Before Jim could leave her, or Barbara or James could be old enough to resent her. 

Barbara Jnr left Dick before he could get hurt, and break her heart.

“I don’t get why you get a different set of rules than I do?” Luke snapped. “You were all kids, but I’m waiting until I’m an adult, and it’s a big deal?”

Barbara sighed. “You don’t understand. It’s not a good life, Luke. Once you’re in, you’re _in_. You don’t get out. You get hurt, or you get dead. I’m trying to protect you from that.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “You’re a hypocrite. You and my Dad. You can’t do what you do then turn around and stop me from doing it too.”

“It’s not a game!” Barbara hissed. She saw some of the ball guests walk by from the corner of her eye, concerned looks on their faces. She took Luke’s arm and dragged him further into the shadows. “My friends have died. Why would I – why would you _dad_ want that for you?”

“People die, Babs,” Luke growled. “But it’s what you do while you lived that counts.”

“Be brave,” Barbara snapped. “By all means, _help_ people. Not like this. Not in a mask. Bruce, Jason, Dick, me… we’re broken people. All of us, in one way or another and this is what we do to help. But you… You’re not broken. You have  _everything,_ Luke,” she laughed breathlessly shaking her head. “You don’t know what it is to have your world fall apart. Not like we do.”

“And Superman does?” Luke scoffed. Barbara could do nothing else but nod her head, thinking of Clark losing his planet, though no one else really knew that. “So every hero has some tragic backstory?”

“That’s not the point, Luke,” Barbara sighed. “I know you could make Gotham better in so many ways. Why does it have to be the one that’s going to leave you riddled with bullets?”

Luke just shook his head. “I just want to be a hero. Like you. Why can’t you just support me?” She opened her mouth, but he raised his hands over his head as if to block his ears and walked away. Barbara tilted her head back and let out a loud groaned.

_Find Jason. Just… get through that first, then deal with Luke later._

So she did.

* * *

Barbara stared at the blimp on the screen, tracking Bruce, Selina, and Tim’s journey to Mexico City.

Despite Bruce asking her three times, Barbara chose to stay in the cave where she was, more or less, trapped until someone returned to carry her back upstairs. Alfred was there, and he could drag her along the floor like a professional, but lifting and carrying was not his expertise.

It was hard not to take it personally, that Talia had so well managed to design a house that kept Barbara out. Or maybe she should be flattered. It wasn’t like Barbara had any tender feelings for the Demon Princess.

“Have you found anything yet, Miss Barbara?” Alfred asked, setting out the tea and scones beside her.

She smiled up at Alfred. The scones were piping hot. How he had managed to bake while they were all so panicked was beyond her, but maybe he found that as soothing as she found hacking the Mexican Federal Police. “I think so,” Barbara said. “But I’m not certain. There are multiple references on these police reports to something called The Nest, Tarantula’s headquarters, but there’s no address.”

“Well, I’d think not,” Alfred said, pulling up a chair beside her. He poured a tea out in two separate mugs. “I find that tea, when the mind is at unease, can bring things into focus.”

Barbara smiled. “I normally prefer coffee.”

“Coffee makes the mind sharper, but does little to stop the anxiety.”

“Who said I’m anxious, Alf?” Alfred shot her a sidelong glare, and she sighed, shaking her head. “Can’t hide anything from you, can I?”

“I could pretend not to notice if you value your pride that much? I do it for Bruce all the time.” But from the way he drawled, she knew it was sarcastic. Alfred wouldn’t ever ignore them when they were in distress. “If tea doesn’t work, then talking may.”

Barbara didn’t like talking. She tapped away, running a search for keywords relating to The Nest, and picked up her mug and took a sip. None of the Batkids liked milk in their tea. It diluted what little caffeine there was in there, but sugar was a must, and Alfred had heavily doused hers. “I don’t know why Tim’s so… mad,” she whispered.

“Well, Jason’s return may be joyous on some levels, but he did try to kill us,” Alfred pointed out. “And his return disturbed the natural order. Bruce is now outed as Batman. Richard and Tim are, publically, without father.”

“But the fake death wasn’t Jason’s fault,” Barbara said. “That was Bruce’s idea, to combat shown… The Joker.”

“Yes,” Alfred admitted. “Better than his original plan relating to the Clown in his mind.” He looked distressed by that, and Barbara frowned.

“What… what plan?” Barbara asked.

Alfred sighed, shaking his head. “He was rather concerned by the idea of Joker taking control and harming one of you. Master Bruce decided that… that before that could happen, he would… he would _remove_ himself from the situation.”

Barbara’s jaw dropped. Bruce had wanted to die that night. Dick was right when he said, “He said goodbye.” Tim had guessed it too, but Barbara didn’t believe them. “He was going to be in that explosion originally, wasn’t he?”

Alfred nodded solemnly. “Unfortunately, that was his original idea.”

Barbara looked down at her hands.

“Suicide is not an option,” Bruce had told her once.

When she lost her legs, and Batgirl, and her hero life.

She’d fallen, trying to get out of bed because for a _second_ she had forgotten. Forgotten about Joker, and the gun and her spine being severed. She’d been too far from her phone, or a panic button but Bruce had been checking up on her in the mornings and, when she didn’t open the door, he came in with his own key. She was covered in her own piss by that point, unable to get to the bathroom and in a fit of tears, she’d told him how she considered it. Considered just… _ending_ it all.

“You can’t be Batgirl. Fine. Don’t be Batgirl. Be better.” He’d fixed her with such a glare, that Barbara blurted out that she could still hack. She could still be on the computer and the comms.

The next day, Bruce had bought her the Clock Tower.

The whole damn building.

He’d fitted it with every gadget and high tech security he could think of and told her it was hers to do with as she saw fit. There were apartments beneath, all empty, and she was a tenant and building manager. “I don’t expect you to make money from it,” he said. “But you can if you want. Whatever you make is yours, but know that you’re my permanent employee. Morning, noon, night. I call, you use this to help me. That’s the price of all of this.”

It was more than enough.

Barbara shook her head. “I can’t believe it. After everything…”

“He thought it was the only way to ensure all of your safety,” Alfred admitted. “He was plagued by nightmares where he caused each of your harm. He couldn’t live with the idea.”

“We could have helped him.”

“In this case, I must agree that you couldn’t,” Alfred said. “But Master Bruce’s reaction was rather… drastic.”

They both fell into quiet, and Barbara quickly checked her search. Nothing new had shown up. “Tim’s been… volatile lately. I think he may have some PTSD.”

“From being shot? I think not, Miss Barbara. He’s by far, been through worse,” Alfred said, dismissing the idea altogether.

Barbara shrugged. “Has he? He thought I was dead for most the night. Bruce locked him up while he was under the influence of The Joker. Then he watched Bruce get shot up with lethal doses of Fear Toxin and go home to blow himself up. It wasn’t your average Halloween, Alf.”

Alfred considered it and sighed. “I suppose not.”

“I think he needs help,” Barbara murmured. “Proper help.”

“I think proper help needs to be delivered in healthy doses to all the boys. Master Bruce, included,” Alfred hummed. His eyes lifted and, with a frown, he caught sight of something and pointed to screen with a map of Mexico City littered with red dots next to her. “What’s that?”

“Crimes that are linked to Tarantula’s gang,” she said.

“All crimes?”

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

Barbara pulled up another report onto the screen. “Bank robberies, a few murders, police shootings, shootouts between gangs, multiple break-ins and some other lesser crimes.”

“Can you colour them by the offence?” Alfred asked.

Barbara nodded and changed the colour of all the dots. Red for inter-gang wars, green for bank robberies, orange for murders, blue for police shootings, yellow for break-ins, and purple for all others. Instantly, a pattern began to form. The inter-gang wars mostly occurred around one central area. “That looks like a takeover, don’t you think Miss Barbara?”

“Iztapalapa,” Barbara read from the map.

“Do you have their phone logs?” Alfred asked.

Barbara didn’t even have to ask why, following his train of thought. She plugged in the cell tower map over the crime, and within the red inter-gang wars district, three blocks lit up. “It’s one of those three buildings,” Barbara said.

“Better than the whole of Mexico City, I’d think.”

She nodded her head in agreement and pressed the commlink. “Oracle to Ba – B. I think A found something.” She glanced at Alfred and smiled, and he patted her hand and cut up the scones for them.

* * *

“Thanks, Oracle. It’ll help,” Bruce said. “B out.” He flicked off his comm and looked to Selina and Tim. “Barbara’s sent through some GPS coordinates. She believes Catalina’s headquarters are there, and each block is apartments. All the case files refer to it as The Nest, so be on guard. Catalina may be housing gang members there.”

“So bats have caves, and spiders have nests,” Selina hummed.

“So do birds,” Tim murmured, and Bruce knew it was a thinly veiled accusation towards Jason. He would never choose between his sons in life or death situations. It would be an impossible choice. But for the moment he had to prioritise Jason and Dick’s rescue over Tim’s feelings.

He did have to make sure, however, that he wasn’t going to let those feelings get in the way of saving both the boys.

Selina had taken to sharpening her claws in the seat behind while Tim and Bruce sat in the front together, watching Mexico pass beneath them. Tim and Bruce were on edge, but for different reasons. Bruce because it was the third-time Jason had left him since he found him again, and the first time he’d been kidnapped – to Bruce’s knowledge – since The Joker took him all those years ago.

Tim because he didn’t trust Jason. Tim loved Dick and would do anything for his older brother, even if it meant going against Bruce’s orders. It was usually something Bruce took pride in - he _wanted_  his boys to take care of each other. But in this case, it could get Jason harmed.

“We need to talk,” Bruce said tersely. Selina was listening in on their conversation, but she was pointedly looking at her claws and pretending that she couldn’t hear. That was enough for him, for the moment. “About Jason,” Bruce said.

Tim held his hand up and shocked him into silence. Shock, mostly because Tim had never done anything like that before. “I’m not here to talk about him,” Tim said. “I’m only here for Dick because he doesn’t deserve to die just because you can’t see you’re making a mistake.”

It had never been Bruce’s task to defend his sons from each other before, mostly because he had never had to. Dick and Jason had always roughhoused and argued, but they sorted out their issues quicker than Bruce could intervene in them. Dick and Tim had never had a problem, and Bruce had always suspected it was the larger age gap between the two. They never competed for attention or girls because Dick was an adult by the time Tim had entered their lives and Tim felt nothing but awe for his big brother, and even with Barbara, Dick had bowed out and never told Tim there was a competition to begin with.

“Jason is not a mistake,” Bruce said firmly. Because he didn’t believe for one second that he was. Not before he was taken, not after with all he’d done, and not when he picked him up from Durango.

“Letting a deranged killer into our lives because you miss him, is a mistake, Bruce. And if you were thinking clearly, without the Joker’s influence, you would see that.”

That comment stung, and Bruce narrowed his eyes. “The Joker isn’t influencing this.”

“I beg to differ,” Tim huffed, his face crooked with rage. “When Joker took Jason, he said he was making him his sidekick. Now you’re infected, and _Jaybird_ just shows up.” The nickname they used lovingly towards Jason bubbled with acid in Tim’s mouth, and it was only years of schooling his emotions that stopped Bruce from flinching. “Believe whatever the hell you want, Bruce, but Jason was better off being dead because now he’s going to be the death of us unless someone stops him.”

Bruce’s hands tightened around the controls of the plane, and for the first time in his life, he had to stop himself from physically harming one of his son’s. The venom and tone were almost enough – none of the boys, not even Jason in his _angriest_ had sounded like that – but there was a threat to his words too. “You’re right. You’re not here to talk about Jason. When we get to Mexico, you can go on a zeta-tube and go back to Gotham. I don’t want you here right now.”

All the fury melted from Tim’s face, he deflated in his seat, staring at Bruce in horror. His mask made it impossible to see his eyes, but his slack-jawed expression indicated he hadn’t thought Bruce would say anything like that. And he probably wouldn’t under normal circumstance. In all the years Tim had been Robin, besides serious injury, Bruce had never benched him for disagreeing. “No,” he whispered. “Don’t… I mean… I’m mad, okay? I’m mad at Jason because ever since that night, I’ve felt unsafe in my own apartment. In my own bed. But I’ll shut up, and we’ll find Dick together. Please?”

Tim’s words about Harley came back to Bruce. “What did Harley do to you?” he asked.

Tim swallowed thickly. “When it’s all over, I’ll tell you. I swear. Just… right now, let’s focus on saving Dick.”

“And Jason,” Bruce said, his voice hardened. He could agree to talk about Harley later – and God, he wanted to rip that woman apart. “I understand he made mistakes. Grave ones that directly impacted this family. But he wasn’t in control of himself. He needs time to recover from the trauma Joker inflicted on him, and I will give him that whether you approve or not. Is that understood?”

Tim pressed his mouth into a hard line and stared straight ahead as if he was forcing himself not to speak. “Is that understood, Robin?” Bruce snapped.

Tim huffed, frowning and clearly conflicted. “It… It’s clear. We’ll rescue both of them. I won’t do anything.”

Bruce glared at him, not quite sure whether he believed him.

Selina, taking that as her cue to intervene, walked between their seats.

Bruce kept glaring at Tim but broke away when Tim lowered his head in defeat. “Half an hour. We’re not too far away.”

“Nice suit,” Selina said, moving to sit beside him. “Haven’t seen it in years.”

Because going as the Batman was impossible, what with Bruce being declared dead, he wore Kevlar, an assassin’s gi and a well-packed utility belt, like what he wore when he was a teenaged vigilante, trying to keep up with Selina over rooftops. Around his neck was a black cloth mask he planned to wear, along with a hood. It was looser than the cowl, and he had to be careful to not knock it back.

“It will do for the meantime,” he said, avoiding all eye contact with Tim as he concentrated on the buildings.

“What do we call you? Mr Assassin Man?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “B is fine, for now.”

“B. Short. Sweet. You should have taken up that name years ago.”

Bruce looked down at his wrists, where two straps hid something he’d found on the jet. He’d made the prototype of a mist dispenser, and now he had the chemicals to test it. “It’s just temporary.”

“How much longer until we get there?” she asked, still aware of his heightened pulse.

“Thirty minutes.”

“And what’s the plan?” she asked, voice soothing.

Bruce gave one last sidelong look at Tim, who was concentrating on flying the plane and refused to look anywhere else. Bruce huffed and got out of his seat, walking to the centre of the aircraft where there was a table. It was built into the plane like the chairs, and the surface lit up as he ran his hand over the surface with a computer screen. He pressed the side and opened the schematics of the block Barbara had sent over. He stared at it from above, then slid his hand on the surface and raised his palm, lifting the 2D blueprint into a 3D interactive model.

“Three buildings. Three of us,” Bruce said. “We each land and scan using the sonar drones we have on board. The one with Jason and Dick will have unusual activity. More people, scattered in odd clumps. Twelve to a room in one room, none in another.”

“That also describes a slum house, Bruce,” Selina pointed out.

“Slum houses won’t have men systematically patrolling with guns, Selina,” Bruce countered, and the smile on her face told him she knew, but she was trying to snap him out of his dark place.

“And when our scans find their building?”

“We have to cut off the exits first.” Bruce looked over each of the blocks. He pointed to the middle one. “This one has fire escapes on every side they can smuggle them out from. Explosives can damage the stairs enough that no one can get down them.” He pointed to the next one. “This one has stairs leading up from the basement. I’ll put you there.”

“Me?” she smirked.

“Tim and I are quicker at searching together… you always had a tendency to wander.”

Selina didn’t disagree. She lowered her voice, laying her hand on Bruce’s bicep. “We’re getting him back,” she promised.

Bruce nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

She stared at him, trying to figure out if she really believed him or not. She must have decided it didn’t matter because Selina got up on her toes and kissed Bruce’s cheek before slinking back to her chair and leaving him to stare at the 3D model in peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I keep forgetting to say this...
> 
> I told you all I rewrote this story. One of the reasons why is because I often had five or six people in each scene, whereas now (if you've noticed) there is rarely more than three. The other thing was, I originally had 25 chapters, which I wasn't really feeling... It was too long and clunky. More or less, the same thing happens in this story that happened in the original (except for a really cool car chase scene that I just didn't fit into the story naturally and I couldn't justify leaving it but damn, I loved writing it....) but I had to get rid of long chunks that established the way Dick/Barbara/Bruce/Jason interacted with one another in the before - keeping in mind, the originally I was never going to publish Something Pretty, and I never expected anyone to read it because they were all just random one-shots I'd written and then tied together in editing, and although it was an entirely other story, it actually did help me shed A LOT of dead writing. Go figure.  
> So the flashbacks are there to give context to all the relationships.  
> They don't have to be read, and I get it if some of you aren't enjoying it. It really is just about a teenage boy trying to get over his broken heart by getting laid and all the drama that goes on around that. But there is also some foreshadowing in there. So hold on!


	10. Enraged

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so very hungover... and at work... and hiding in my office so I can edit and post this because I do not want to do actual work...
> 
> So back to Jason and Dick...

Dick had seen Jason retreating into the crowd from the stage as Bruce made his speech at the Gala. It had taken all his patience not to chase him while Bruce was talking and ask what had happened. Although from his dishevelled clothes and the lost puppy dog look in his eyes, it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

He had tried to tell Jason about Ariel. It wasn’t his fault his idiot adopted-brother didn’t listen.

His stomach flipped with guilt for even _thinking_ Jason was an idiot. He wasn’t. Jason was far too smart for his own good and, despite the rough, angry exterior, his heart was big and vulnerable. Jason did everything fiercely, and love was no exception.

But he took rejection hard, and personally. He took everything personally. It frustrated Dick beyond belief how the funny, charming kid he knew could be so insecure sometimes.

After a brief awkward encounter with Bruce, Dick decided to try checking outside the gala doors for his brother. He went to the concierge and asked and found out Jason had booked a room under his name. Dick groaned and explained to the concierge Jason was his little brother, flashing his ID and mentioning how he probably shouldn’t have let an underaged teenager book a penthouse suite.

Dick walked across the lobby to the elevators, trying to think of all the things he could say to Jason when he spotted Barbara and Luke in the hall. They were furiously whispering, and it looked intense. Dick frowned and left it alone, calling an elevator and catching it upstairs.

When he tracked down the room, he knocked on the door and waited.

There was a scuffle behind the door and a _bang_. Dick leant in close, trying to hear more when the door swung open.

Dick stepped back in surprise when he saw Jason, eyes red and his tie undone. “Oh fuck,” Jason exclaimed, leaning against his head against the door. He had a beer bottle in his one hand and covered his face with the other.

Dick took one look at him and wasn’t sure whether or not to yell at him or hug him. “Are you okay?” he asked, needing to get that out of the way first.

“M’fine,” Jason muttered darkly, pulling away from the door so that he could let Dick in. “Does Dad know?”

Dick walked in, shaking his head. “He thinks we’re arguing over a girl, I think. What the hell are you doing?” Dick asked, reaching the living room. The minibar was dry, Jason having drunk everything inside. “Do you even know how much this all costs?”

Jason shrugged. “Bruce is a batrillionaire. Does it matter?”

Dick stared at the mess of bottles. He’d even begun eating the peanuts. “It’s funny. When you kind of want him to know something, you call him Dad, but when you think he’s going to rip you to pieces for being an idiot, it’s _Bruce_.” Dick said, spinning around and glaring at Jason. “You know he has money, but he’s still going to be pissed about this.”

Jason shifted his body back defensively. “Cause you’ve never blown money on a hotel room for a girl.”

“Not with his card. And not on the freaking penthouse.” Dick kept shaking his head, not quite sure how Bruce was going to blow his gasket. “Cash and motels, Jaybird. You heard of them?”

“Can you just shut up?” Jason slurred, swinging back more of his beer. “If you had told me that Ariel just wanted to screw me and dump me because I’m a _street rat_ , then we wouldn’t be here now, would we?”

Dick flinched, and sympathy welled up in him for his younger brother. He reassessed the red eyes and took note of the tear-stained cheeks. “Jaybird,” he said gently. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t know _how_ to tell you. I mean, when Ariel’s friend – _whatshername?_ – Gisella told me about the stupid list I didn’t believe her.”

“List?” Jason lifted his head, a frown on his face. “What list?”

Dick raised his eyebrow then realised that Jason still didn’t have the full story. “Oh…” Dick flinched. “Shit. Sorry, Jay. Yeah. I mean… Ariel has a list of the kind of people she wants to sleep with before she gets married.”

Gaping, Jason dropped his beer. “What?”

“Yeah,” Dick said and felt ill as he thought about it. “Someone from a circus was on her list. I ticked the box.”

Jason was tinged green, and he shook his head. “So what the hell was I?”

“I don’t know, Jay,” Dick said softly. Jason glared at the carpet, not lifting his eyes to look at Dick. “Look, I should have warned you properly, but, I didn’t want to upset you and–”

“Just like you didn’t want to upset me with Donna?” Jason spat, glaring at him.

Dick frowned. “What?”

Jason scoffed. “I had to hear from Roy-fucking-Harper that she was seeing her stupid professor. And he only told me because he got sick of me calling the Tower looking for her!”

Dick was genuinely confused. He knew that Donna was seeing her professor, but she had told Dick that Jason broke up with her before that. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

“Bullshit!” Jason snapped. The hurt on his face was heartbreaking, but Dick had no idea where it came from. “You and Donna are like freaking twins! You tell each other everything. Are you the one who told her to just not tell me about her running off with a guy twice her age?”

Things began clicking in Dick’s head. Donna had been acting cagey towards him lately and begged him not to bring her up to Jason. She told him she already felt bad enough because their relationship had begun when he was fourteen, and she was nineteen. That had been something else he hadn’t known until recently because Jason and Donna had hidden their relationship for so long.

“She cheated on you,” Dick said,

“Don’t act like you didn’t know,” Jason growled.

“Jay, I didn’t,” Dick protested.

“ _Sure_.”

“Honestly, Jay… Do you think that’s something I’d keep from you?” Dick watched Jason’s face twist into something unreadable.

“You _always_ keep things from me.”

“Like what?”

Jason glared at him. “Mia’s got HIV.”

Dick raised his eyebrow. “Bruce knew that too, and it was not my secret to tell anyone.”

“Roy and _Cheshire_?”

“You don’t even _like_ Roy. What do you care who he dates?”

“Wally is leaving the Titans?”

Dick frowned. “I don’t even know how you found out about that. Wally’s only told me he’s thinking about it.”

“You’re going off on a mission!” Jason yelled finally.

Dick sucked in a sharp breath, then swallowed. No one knew about that. Only Bruce and Alfred, and just because they had carefully had to flesh out a new persona for him. He hadn’t finished crafting the back story yet, but he was leaving in a few weeks. Already, he’d been laying the breadcrumbs to Deathstroke that he was considering his offer to join him. Dick clenched his fists and unclenched them, trying to figure out what to say. They hadn’t planned on what they would tell Jason yet. Dick hadn’t really wanted to tell him anything.

“Jason,” he said shortly. “I wasn’t trying to hide it from you. I just didn’t want to worry you and–”

“You think I’d be worried?” Jason scoffed. He laughed and rolled his eyes. “Please, Dickhead. You think everyone worships you?”

Dick clicked his jaw together. “I’m gonna ignore that cause you’re drunk and pissed off.”

“Don’t ignore it. I’m trying to explain to you how conceited you are,” Jason snapped. “You think that you’re Mister Perfect who has all these women throwing themselves at you. Hell, I bet you slept with Donna before me.”

Dick rolled his eyes. “Just because some of us can maintain relationships with women that aren’t about sex–”

“Like, you and Zatanna?” Jason was prodding him. Dick knew it. He was hitting him with every direction with bait for a fight, but Dick wasn’t going to bite.

“What do you want to talk about, Jaybird?” Dick asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “How I secretly hid Donna’s cheating, the fact that I’m going undercover with Deathstroke for three months, my sordid sex life, or how you’re jealous people actually like me compared to you.”

“People like me,” Jason growled.

“Name one friend you have, that knows who you _really_ are, that isn’t Babs,” Dick sneered, and maybe he was nibbling at the bait. Maybe. Just a little.

Jason’s jaw clicked together, and he glared at Dick. “People like me,” he growled. “I had friends before I came to live with you and Bruce. Heaps of them. Just because the rich assholes around here look down on me, doesn’t mean I have no friends.”

“Yeah… What’s that losers names again? The one who comes around and hits you up for money all the time? Liam… Lauren… No, wait. Leo. When was the last time you saw him? When his bank ran dry?”

With an almighty yell, Jason launched himself across the room, and Dick dodged his drunken attack and moved to grab him from behind. Jason didn’t waste a second, catching Dick by his shirt and flipping him straight over his head. He went crashing to the floor with a painful _thud_ , but he grabbed Jason by his arms and yanked him down. Dick had the advantage. Dick had size on Jason and wasn’t drunk, but because Jason was drunk, he moved erratically, and Dick didn’t mean it when he pulled on Jason and the younger hit his head on the corner of the table.

Even so, Dick easily spun Jason around and pinned him down, but Jason yanked his leg up and kneed Dick in the balls, sending the elder sprawling.

It was a dirty move. Dick was winded as the pain burst up from his groin and burst bright white lights in his eyes from the pain. He tried to cup between his legs, but Jason, as drunk as he was, took the opportunity to pin Dick and raised his fist to hit him.

The blow never came.

Because, even with Dick’s eyes watering, he could see Jason didn’t want to hit him. He just wanted to get a rise out of him. To hurt him. “I hate you!” Jason yelled, fist still up in the air.

Dick glared at him. “Good,” he wheezed out. “Then I don’t have to hide anymore the fact that _I hate you too!_ ”

Jason glared down at Dick, eyes watering. Body trembling. Even through the pain, there was a part of Dick that felt terrible and wanted to reach out and grab Jason and tell him it was going to be okay. But the more dominant part of him was in pain and pissed off because he was also sick of being used as a punching bag for all of Jason’s insecurities. Eventually, Jason fell off Dick and fell back against the back of the couch, head on the material and curled up in a ball. “Get out,” he yelled, in between his legs.

Dick groaned, finally able to cup his aching balls and rolled onto his side, burying his face in the carpet for a minute before he crawled up and limped to the door, slamming it behind him without saying another word.

* * *

Jason had been silent since Dick had taken out a contract on himself. They had been put into a van, taken to a tarmac with a private plane – the kind Bruce would hire out to make himself look like a playboy – and then locked in the small bathroom on the plane. Slade took the cuffs off from behind them but left them cuffed together. Even with the proximity – Dick sitting on the sink and Jason sitting on the toilet lid – Jason couldn’t bring himself to talk to the former Robin.

He was at a loss, caught between wondering about the elder’s sheer stupidity and being pissed off because Jason couldn’t figure out what the hell Dick was doing or thinking.

“We need to get out of here,” Dick had murmured, maybe an hour ago.

Jason had almost said _no shit Sherlock_ , but the words didn’t come out. Dick was still wet and was dripping on him, and Jason’s leg was getting damp. He would have gotten cold, but the humidity in the small space was keeping him warm.

“Why did Catalina get Slade to come get us?” Dick muttered. “Last I heard, she has factions of her gang all over Mexico.”

“Only on the East side,” Jason muttered. “Encantadora runs the west, and they hate each other. Not that Encantadora likes me either, but the enemy of my enemy, and all that. I gave her a bunch of Cat’s safe house locations, so there’s a mutual respect that we won’t kill each other.”

“Do you know where we’re going on the East Side?” Dick asked.

Jason nodded slowly. “Mexico City. It’s where her headquarters are. Where I screwed her over too.”

Dick hummed. “There’s a zeta tube in Mexico City. None in Mazatlán, but one in Torreon at Wayne Tech.”

Jason frowned. “A what-tube?”

Dick looked at Jason, eyebrow raised and then remembered. “Oh yeah. That’s… a new thing. Um, Martian Manhunter found an old Martian spaceship. Barry and Bruce studied their technology, and now we have tubes in secret locations across the world that the League uses to instantly travel place to place. But Tim, Barb and I brought the jet, so I’m guessing that’s how Bruce is gonna get to us.”

“The League?” Jason stared at Dick. “Are you in The League?”

Still not paying attention, Dick nodded. “Yeah. For about a year now.”

Jason was in information overload. Dick was in the League, and beaming technology was a thing. _Focus on the problem at hand. Freak out about the rest later._

Jason ignored Dick’s pondering face and tried to think the best way to get away from Deathstroke. The problem was, Slade knew them both.

He knew Jason and his fighting style, and how he thought because of Joker, and he knew Dick because of… other reasons.

After Deathstroke killed Terra, Dick had become obsessed with bringing his empire down. Bruce had lock Deathstroke away but it had only lasted a few years before he broke out and went after Nightwing. But he wasn’t trying to hurt him. Deathstroke wanted to recruit him as his own assistant and Bruce let him go undercover with an alias – John Blake.

That was where, in Jason’s mind, things became blurry. He wasn’t quite sure what had happened on the mission only that Dick had come out of it not quite the same and Jason had hated Bruce for it. Or maybe he’d just been mad at Bruce.

Jason could honestly say he hadn’t thought about that time in his life for years. Where he was worried about Dick, and his general safety. It was another of those things he’d just… _forgotten_. But interestingly, it was something he’d forgotten that didn’t relate to Bruce or Batman. _Store it away from later. For now, how are you going to get away from here?_

Jason figured it must have been after Bruce’s reveal as Batman that Deathstroke figured out the ruse behind _John Blake_ and connected him to Dick Grayson. But that didn’t make the situation better.

They couldn’t get away on the plane. They had to wait until after the ride. Maybe after Catalina laid eyes on them so Deathstroke could take his leave. Jason could deal with Catalina and her goons without his usual array of weapons and gear, but Deathstroke was different. Jason needed at least some basic armour to get through a fight with him without weapons.

He also needed to find out how Deathstroke knew to find Jason in Mazatlán. Who gave the information that pointed them to Bruce’s safe house? He guessed that only Catalina knew that, seeing as Slade said the contract came with the lead.

He tapped his hand against his knee and looked up at Dick. “How do you know Catalina?” he asked.

Dick looked down at him, having been lost in his own thoughts the entire time. “Huh?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Last night you said she wasn’t your ex. B thought she was. How do you know Cat?” But Dick was staring at him, his mouth hanging open a little. “Dick?”

“Um… she…” Dick clicked his jaw together and took a deep breath. “She was an FBI Agent, and I was still a rookie, but she landed on a case that I had caught a break on as Nightwing and was working out of my office. I met her on her first day in the office. The case was regarding Roland Desmond, the second Blockbuster, and his systematic takeover of Blüdhaven’s gangs. When the FBI took over the case, they wouldn’t let me into the investigation, but I managed to get notes on it anyway.” Dick stared at the wall across from him, reciting it like a case file he’d committed to memory.

Jason frowned.

Even when Dick was serious, he was emotive, but now he spoke like a robot… Or like Bruce. At least, the Dick that Jason remembered was like that. He couldn’t help but wonder how much he’d changed.

“At the same time, a new version of Tarantula started to show up around town. She was an okay fighter but was too aggressive and sloppy. The previous Tarantula, John Law, lived in my building. He’d retired, but we knew each other, and he knew the new Tarantula. His half-sister, Catalina Flores. I confronted her later that night and offered her a deal. She let me in on the FBI case, and I would train her. She took the deal.

“Things went wrong. I was sloppy, and Roland discovered my identity. He blew up my apartment, killing John in the process and when confronted by Roland, Catalina killed him.” Dick’s fists were in tight balls, and Jason raised his eyebrow.

“Okay… Still don’t get how she ended up in Mexico or why B thought you two were banging?”

Dick flinched.

Not a small twitch either. His whole body jerked as Jason spoke and he shook his head vehemently. “I didn’t… she…” He tapered off and took a long breath in and out again. “I didn’t let Catalina have sex with me,” he said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. A hint of _Dick_. Jason’s frown burrowed deeper in his face. “She killed Roland. In front me. I… I walked away from him. He was threatening Barbs, Tim and Bruce, and… and I didn’t stop Tarantula when she…” Dick squished up his face. “She thought she was doing the right thing. Didn’t _know_ … I walked away. Then I said stop.”

He was making little sense and that frustrated Jason beyond belief. “Dickhead,” he growled, his old nickname for him and it snapped Dick out of whatever tunnel he was falling into. Jason’s stomach turned. “Are you okay?” he asked.

Dick nodded his head, despite the fact he was pale. “I’m fine. Just… let me handle Catalina. I’ll get us out of there.”

Jason scoffed. “Not likely. Cat’s not gonna be happy until my heads on a platter. I am the reason she lost _a lot_ of her cartel, and unless you were sleeping with her, I don’t really think she’s going to budge on that one.”

“Can you stop saying that?” Dick snapped, glaring down at Jason.

Jason blinked, a little surprised by the reaction and he raised his eyebrow. “Why are you so touchy?”

Dick cleared his throat and leant his head on the mirror behind his head. “Just… no reason. It’s…” He sighed and closed his eyes. “She killed Roland, but… but it was my fault. I… I was covered in his blood. I killed him ‘cause… Because I didn’t say _stop_. Then I did say stop but… Or I thought I did, but I mustn’t have. She wouldn’t have done it if I said stop.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself and it clicked in Jason’s head.

“Do you think _you_ killed Roland?” Jason asked slowly.

Dick snorted, still not opening his eyes. “I don’t think, Jaybird. I _know_.”

Jason shook his head. “If you think you… you coerced Catalina into killing someone for you ‘cause you walked away, let me tell you, I ran with her for a while, and she beheaded this guy for selling drugs on the wrong corner… Not that I blame her. It was next to a school, but–”

“I was her mentor,” Dick muttered. “I should have stopped her.”

“Bruce was my mentor. You think he could have stopped me from killing Felipe back in the day?” Jason asked.

Dick’s eyes flung open and stared down at Jason in shock. “You didn’t kill Felipe,” Dick said. “You told me you didn’t kill him. Did you?”

Jason hadn’t.

Not exactly.

Felipe Garzonas, the diplomat of Bogatago, had been in Gotham for three weeks when no less than seven girls had gone missing and shown up again dead and brutally raped. Jason had been thirteen at the time, and Dick was leaving for the Titan headquarters and had invited Jason and Barbara to join him there to soak up Miami and the sunshine.

Bruce hadn’t asked Jason to go with them, but he hadn’t exactly asked him to stay with him either. But Jason knew it was just Dick worrying about him but took offence to the previous Robin wearing kid-gloves with Jason and trying to rescue him from the Garzonas case.

“It’s fine. You think I didn’t see this stuff all the time in Crime Alley?” Jason had boasted bitterly, and Dick, for all it was worth, put his hand on Jason’s shoulder and squeezed it.

“Offer won’t disappear. No matter what time or day, you want to join us, I’ll come and get you.”

Dick and Barbara took the Batwing that weekend and Jason sat in the cave with Bruce, trying to solve the case.

It didn’t take them long to connect the dots. Felipe Garzonas wasn’t attempting to cover his tracks, because he had diplomatic immunity. He wasn’t wearing a mask or trying to cause chaos. He wasn’t doing it for the money either. Jason had learnt at a very young age that there were some sick people out there, and they had no rhyme or reason.

Felipe was one of them, and with each death, the anger that Jason constantly had bubbling in his blood boiled over.

By the time the eighth girl showed up, most of Gotham PD and factions of Gotham society had figured out it was Felipe. He wasn’t subtle, and he didn’t brag, but he didn’t try to hide it either, once callously dropping his wallet at the scene and then having his driver pick it up.

When Batman and Robin investigated the body, Jason was struck by how young she was. She couldn’t have been older than himself, and her hair was still in plaits, ready for school. She had her backpack, carelessly discarded next to her and Jason tilted his head and read the insignia on her diary.

It said Park Row Middle School.

Jason’s stomach turned.

Park Row Middle School, was the primary, middle school of Crime Alley. All the brats from his neighbourhood went there if they went to school at all. It was a fenced-up building that required security at every entrance, but he knew kids there. He’d grown up with kids from there.

He looked at the girl’s face again but decided to look away, afraid that maybe he knew her once upon a time. Before Batman could even ask him a question, Jason turned and ran from the scene and launched his grapple hook at the nearest building to take off. “Robin!” Batman called out, but Robin was already jumping over to the next building and flying away towards where he knew the diplomat lived.

The news of the eighth death had spread like a gasoline fire through the Gotham social scene. Gothamites, not known for their level heads, were desperately whispering for someone to act. So, when Jason dropped down on the rooftop across from Felipe’s home, he wasn’t surprised to see a man holding a broken bottle to Felipe’s neck as they fought on the balcony.

Instinct kicked in, and Jason aimed his grapple hook and jumped across the street, swinging over the late evening traffic, and without blinking, kicked the unknown man off Felipe’s chest and through the glass door into his room. Felipe somehow managed to fall over the balcony but held onto the railing.

The mystery man was on the floor, glaring at Jason from where he stood. “You and Batman weren’t doing nothing! Someone had to take this sick freak out!”

Jason ignored what he said and nodded his head to the door. “Get out of here. Don’t tell anyone you were here.”

The man did as he was told and scurried out, leaving Jason with a man, dangling over the edge of a building with only one way of getting up.

When Batman got there, Felipe was dead and broken, ten stories below them on the pavement. He didn’t say anything to Jason, other than to send him home which Jason did straight away. He called Dick back at the cave, taking him up on his offer, and Dick flew out and took him to Miami without knowing what had happened. When he’d found out, he’d gone off at Jason and was going to take him back to the Manor, but Bruce insisted he stay with Dick for a little while longer. That night though, Barbara had crept into his room, after everyone else had gone to bed, and laid beside him all night, not touching or speaking, but a comforting presence all the while.

The thing was, Jason didn’t push him or knock him off the balcony. Felipe had offered money and begged for his life and for help as he scrambled up onto the balcony, but Jason hadn’t moved to help him. He just stood there, absently staring wondering why he was bothering.

“I didn’t kill Felipe,” Jason admitted to Dick. “But I did stand there and not do anything. Still didn’t mean I killed him. He fell off that balcony, and he would have been hanging there if I’d been there or not. I just didn’t stop gravity from doing its job.”

“Just like I did nothing for Roland,” Dick murmured.

Jason shrugged. “I guess. But is it really so bad if assholes like Roland Desmond and Felipe Garzonas are off the streets? I mean… they’re not A-class citizens.”

“We don’t kill,” Dick whispered. They were the same words Dick had yelled at him when he’d found out about Felipe. “We collect evidence. We jail.”

“It doesn’t work.”

“Sometimes it does.”

“Why didn’t you jail Catalina then?” Jason asked honestly. Dick flinched, viscerally. Not just his regular tiny ‘I’ve-been-trained-to-not-show-emotion’ twitch. It was a whole-body jerk.

“Cause his death was still my fault,” Dick whispered.

“We just went through that. You agree I didn’t kill Felipe.”

Dick sighed. “It’s _different_. You were a kid. I was twenty-one, and I was the one covered in his blood. We were _both_ covered in his blood.” He shook his head. “I really don’t want to talk about this. Cause it doesn’t matter. It happened years ago, and it’s over.”

Jason knew he was missing something. Something Dick wasn’t telling him. “Can I trust that you’re telling me everything important?” Jason asked.

Dick looked sick for a second but shook the look away. “I’m not the one who just spent five years plotting your murder, Jay. So yeah. You can trust me.”

“No,” Jason shook his head. Jason wasn’t letting him off so easy. He was getting nervous about whatever the hell it was that was bothering Dick about Tarantula. If he flaked out on him while they were with her, they could both be in trouble and Jason would be damned before he became someone’s torture bitch again. “Dick, I need to know you’ve got my back,” Jason snapped. His nerves were getting to him. “So answer the question: Can I trust that you’re telling me everything important? I need to know you’re not gonna get me killed.”

“I’m not going to get you killed,” Dick said, sounding more exhausted than he’d been letting on all day. His hand was trembling. “Tarantula was in love with me. Obsessed, actually. She tried to trick me into marrying her, and then tried killing Babs when she realised I was in love with her… but Barbara kicked her ass, even in the wheelchair.” A small flicker of a smile graced his lips. “That’s why I think I can get through to her. Get you out of whatever shit she wants to put you through. I’m pretty sure she still loves me.”

Jason frowned. “Your big secret was that yet another chick wanted a piece of your ass? Why _didn’t_ you sleep with her?”“

Dick shook his head. “Jay, please stop saying that,” Dick whispered.

Jason opened his mouth and was about to ask him why he cared so much when things clicked in his head for a second time.

_I didn’t **let** Catalina have sex with me._

_Because I didn’t say **stop**. Then I did say stop but… Or I thought I did, but I mustn’t have. She wouldn’t have done it if I said stop._

Jason’s stomach hollowed and he looked up at Dick, eyes big in his own head. “She had sex with you,” Jason whispered, a gentle thrum of the anger that charged him sounded in his veins. Dick flinched again. The same large body jerk that Bruce had trained out of him at nine. He shook his head, but he was lying. “You didn’t want to have sex with her.”

“Jay,” Dick spoke so softly that Jason had to lean forward to hear him. His voice was broken, and his chest rose and fell rapidly. When Jason stared at Dick’s pale face, he saw tears shimmering over his eyes. “ _Please_ stop.”

Jason’s lungs constricted, and he stared up at his older brother. He moved his cuffed hand to Dick’s knee and squeezed hard enough that it would bruise. Dick jumped, but calmed a moment later and, with a shuddered sigh, laid his hand over Jason’s, and tried to squeeze out the tension from his muscles.

“Just…” Dick murmured. “Just let me talk to Catalina when we get there. I’ll fix this. I’ll get her to let you go.”

Jason squeezed harder at the thought of seeing Dick and Catalina in the same room together, _knowing_ what he knew. He could barely stomach the idea that he had once been in the same room as Catalina. That he’d considered her an ally for quite some time. “She tried marrying you?” Jason hissed.

Dick flinched. “Yeah.”

“Before or after?” he growled.

Dick shook his head. “Doesn’t matter, Jay…”

“ _Before_ or _after_?” he growled.

Dick sighed. “After.”

Jason clenched his jaw. “You are _not_ talking to her.”

Dick flinched and tried to yank his hand back. “Jay, you’re hurting me.”

Jason didn’t listen. It wasn’t a new concept to Jason. He’d grown up in the part of Gotham where things like that happened to everyone, by everyone. Men raped men, women raped women, men raped women, and women raped men. It was all the same. All sick. He’d been fortunate enough to never have had that happen to him, but he’d still grown up with victims, and it was always bad. The after was _always_ bad and judging by Dick’s demeanour it was just as terrible for him too.

“It happened years ago,” Dick whispered. “Jason, leave it.”

“Does Bruce know about it?” Jason demanded.

Dick shook his head. “No.”

Jason’s heart skipped a beat, and he looked towards the bathroom door and back at his cuffed hand. He slipped his free hand around Dick’s wrist, and let go of Dick’s knee to yank at the cuffs, trying to break it. Dick’s hand went with his the first time, but the second time, the metal dug into Jason’s skin and cut him. Not that he felt it, but Dick’s alarmed face meant that he saw it. “Stop!” Dick shouted, grabbing Jason’s arm and holding it steady.

Jason lifted his face and glared at Dick. “She is _never_ gonna touch you again. Do you understand? _No one_ gets to hurt you like that.”

Dick was lost for words. His mouth hung open as he stared down at Jason.

He looked down at where their hands were cuffed together, and his brain whirred. Before he even knew what he had planned in his own mind, Jason took his cuffed thumb and yanked it, dislocating it. “Jason!”

It didn’t hurt. There was so much adrenaline rushing through him, blood pounding in his ears, that he couldn’t feel the pain from the dislocation or the blood from the cuff.

He remembered this.

Remembered it from the days before Talia got to him.

 _Titan,_ he thought to himself, and he ground his teeth together as he pulled his hand out of his cuff. Back then he’d thought it was PTSD or something, but now he had a name for what was happening to him. Now, he knew he could use it. “What are you doing?” Dick demanded as Jason stood up.

He popped his thumb back in place then lifted his leg up and slammed his foot into the door. Dick’s eyes widened in alarm. “Jason!”

Jason wasn’t listening, his world narrowing into a black tunnel. He walked through the plane, on a mission. He knew Slade had most likely heard him. That didn’t matter. He got to the cockpit and yanked open the door, and there stood the mercenary, holding up his sword and aiming it at Jason as the plane flew on autopilot.

There must have been something.

On Jason’s face, or in his eyes because Slade made a face. “I thought Talia taught you control.”

It only made Jason angrier. Because it only reminded Jason that he _knew_. Knew about Joker’s plan. Knew about the Titan and what they’d done to him. He’d participated, and Jason was reminded of two long scars over his stomach where he’d almost been gutted by Deathstroke.

If Slade had told him… If he hadn’t been working for The Joker, Jason could have gone home. He could have been with Alfred. Made up with Bruce. Gotten Tim to trust him. Been there for Barbara. Stopped Dick from being…

Jason could have gotten help.

“Fuck you,” Jason growled.

He lunged forward, underneath the first blade and the second nicked him in the arm, but he managed to miss most of it. The cockpit was close confines, and once Jason was around the swords, he got to Deathstrokes gun. Deathstroke dropped his swords and tried to swipe the gun from Jason’s hand, but missed and Jason twisted under his next punch and lifted his arm, pulling off the safety and pointing the gun at Slade’s head.

Talia had taught him control, after all.

“Down,” Jason snarled.

“How about you?” Slade asked and Jason looked down and Slade’s second gun pushed up into Jason’s gut.

“Think again.” Dick stood outside the cockpit but had lifted one of Slade’s discarded swords beneath Slade’s unmasked throat.

Slade smirked at the brothers. “See, I know only one of you will kill.”

“I can still hurt you really bad,” Dick smirked. “And if you hurt Jason, I will delay the medical attention.”

Slade looked at Jason, trying to figure out if it was worth it, but Jason’s face was steely. It gave away no emotion, and no care, and only told Deathstroke one thing. _I will kill you._

He huffed and lowered his gun, disarming it in the process, and held his arms above his head. “Don’t be offended if I take a little bit of credit for this,” Slade said, nodding his head to Dick. “Afterall, I did train you.” He moved his eyes back to Jason’s cold ones. “Both of you.”

Jason lifted his gun up and brought the stock down on Deathstroke’s head, rendering him unconscious. Dick’s shoulders fell in relief, and he lowered the sword. “Damn Jaybird. Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Jason didn’t reply. He stepped over Slade’s slumped body and went to the pilot controls. Dick frowned at him. “Okay then,” he said. “Let me just get Slade out of here.”

He grabbed the merc by the ankles and Jason paid him no mind as Dick dragged him out, and probably tied him up. Jason read the flight path in the meantime and took over the autopilot, his brain whirring a million miles an hour.

He saw a bag in the cockpit and hummed, leaning down and grabbing it. He looked around inside, sliding more pieces of the puzzle in as he found some weapons and other useful tools – smoke bombs, knockout gas and some medical supplies. He withdrew one of the syringes filled with benzodiazepine, and his mind whirred as his thumb played with the stopper to adjust the dosage.

Jason wasn’t sure what he was thinking. He knew what he was doing, but he was having a hard time processing the implications and the finer details. He could remember his mind being that cloudy in Arkham. After Arkham. All the way up until the time he learnt how to drown out the noise in his head in the valley of Nanda Parbat.

Dick came back, still damp, but looking more relaxed than he had in the cubicle. He slid into the co-pilot seat. “You tried the radio?” Dick asked.

Jason hid the needle from Dick’s line of sight. “No.”

“Okay. Well, do we have enough fuel to get back to Mazatlán?”

“We’re going to Mexico City,” Jason said, his tone even. He flipped the needle in his hand, but it was hidden from view from Dick.

Dick huffed and nodded taking stock of what was in the room. “Okay, well we’ll call Bruce when we’re there and–”

“No,” Jason said.

Dick paused and looked at him. “What?”

“Catalina knows where we are,” Jason said.

Dick frowned. “So?”

“So, she’ll keep coming back. Keep sending people after me.”

“We’ll figure it out when we’re back with Bruce.”

“I’m going to take care of it.”

Dick stared at Jason warily. “Jay… if this is still about what I told you, please don’t. I don’t want you to do anything.” Dick danced around the word, and Jason wanted to yell it at him but knew it was by far the wrong thing to do. He kept staring steelily ahead, doing maths in a separate part of his brain. “Jason… Jason?!” Dick practically shouted at him to get his attention, but Jason lifted the needle up and slammed it into the side of Dick’s neck.

The look of betrayal across Dick’s face was sickening, and for a moment, Jason saw clarity in his fractured mind and the path that he’d laid out before him.

He breathed in and out and trembled as he pressed the plunger all the way through, filling Dick’s blood with benzodiazepine. He glared at Jason, his eyes becoming heavier and heavier until he slumped back in his chair, unconscious.

Jason had to blink and force himself to pull the needle out, double checking that he’d missed anything vital. “Sorry,” he said, insincerely, then looked straight out towards Mexico City.

The blood was rushing through his skull again, creating a hum. While all of his thoughts failed to make sense in the heat of his anger, Jason could hear one spinning around his mind quite clearly.

_There is no way in hell Catalina Flores gets near Dick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And now you all know why Dick and Jason were fighting in the Diana chapter of Something Pretty...
> 
> Can I tell you how much I greatly love and appreciate you all for reading + my constant reviewers...
> 
> I actually think (according to my hit rating) there are only about 100 ppl still reading this, but I appreciate you all very much.
> 
> Love  
> ithoughtslashmeanthorror


	11. Adrenaline Rush

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Twice in 24 hours... because I'm in a super sour mood at work and updating makes me happy. :)

Dick fell on the floor in the elevator, staring at the wall opposite and ran his hand through his hair.

He hadn’t fought like that with Jason in… forever.

They scuffled and argued, and it got brutal sometimes, but it had never been personal. Dick had never told him he hated him before, and Jason had thrown around ‘I hate you’ all the time, but he’d never said it with so much conviction.

Dick was leaving in a few weeks, for an undercover mission. He’d been undercover before, for Bruce and the Titans but never anything so… involved. Bruce had spent three months training him to respond to the name John and erasing his life as Dick Grayson from the internet. Even his DNA had been registered to a new identity.

He would never tell Bruce, but he was frightened.

Frightened of failing.

Frightened of being found out.

Frightened of not coming back.

He didn’t have time to deal with Jason and his teenaged drama, no matter how much he wanted to be there for him.

He got to the bottom floor, and the doors opened. Dick planned on climbing up slowly and going to tell Bruce about where Jason was before he left for the evening, but his plans were thrown out the window when Barbara walked in, wiping a tear out of the corner of her eye. “What’s wrong with you?” he asked.

Barbara froze and looked down at him, taking in his scuffled shirt. “You _fought_ with him?”

Dick rolled his eyes. “I don’t want to hear it.”

“I can’t believe you,” she scoffed, hands swinging up to her hips, going from zero to one hundred in a minute. “You can’t be mature, just once.”

“He lunged at me!” Dick shouted, matching her tone.

“You’re the _older brother_. You’re supposed to diffuse the situation.”

“That’s not fair! I can’t always control him.”

“Nothing is fair, Dick.”

Dick narrowed his eyes. “You know what? I’m sick of being his older brother. I didn’t ask for him!”

“No one _asks_ for their younger siblings. You just get them, and they’re stupid, and they’re a pain in the ass, but you deal with it, Dick. You don’t beat each other up!”

“You don’t even know what happened!”

“You’re sitting in an elevator looking pathetic. It doesn’t take a genius!”

Dick huffed and glared at her, taking in her demeanour and the way she stood. He recognised that look. She always used to get that tired, weary expression after they had an argument. “Doesn’t take a genius with you either. Just someone who knows you. You argued with Luke. Let me guess. He wants to mask up with us, and you’re less than peachy keen.” Dick smirked when she fell quiet because he’d got it right. He could tell from the way her cheeks flushed red. “You can’t stop him. The more you tell him no, the more he’s going to jump into burning buildings.”

The elevator doors began to close, and Barbara slammed her fist into the doors and glared down at him. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Really, _Batgirl_?” He lowered his voice and glared at her. “You didn’t listen to me. No matter how much I begged you.”

“That was different!”

“Was it? Did he call you a hypocrite? Cause that’s what you yelled at me for a week.”

Barbara narrowed her eyes and Dick could tell he was in her head. It was so easy getting in her head. Despite all their training from Bruce, Barbara would always be vulnerable to him pushing around in her head. “He’s going to run off and fight crime, no matter what you do. You can’t control him.” The doors began to close again, and Barbara stepped inside, letting them slide shut behind her.

She glared down at him. “You think I want to _control_ him? I want to keep him safe!”

Dick glanced at the ceiling, to where Jason was, and then considered his upcoming mission. “You can’t keep us safe. Not forever. We can only try, Babs. There are no certainties. Take it from someone who has lost many friends who he has tried to keep safe… who might lose himself despite the fact he’s trying to keep everyone safe.” Dick’s words turned into a whisper, and he stared down at the ground from between his knees.

Barbara’s face fell. “What?”

Dick shook his head, rubbing his face and getting up off the floor. “Nothing, Babs.” He had said too much. Lost himself too far in his own fears. It was his idea, at the end of the day. Bruce had told him over and over that he didn’t have to go. That Bruce could find another way. “Just leave it alone.”

“Dick,” she said softly. She moved closer to him, crowding him. Dick’s back was already against the wall of the elevator. “What’s wrong?”

Maybe it was just because he’d had enough of being Jason’s punching bag that made him do it. Or perhaps he was scared of leaving and not telling her everything that he felt. It didn’t matter. Dick grabbed her face with one hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in close and pressed their mouth together.

It was messy, teeth clinking, mouths hard pressed one against the other. At first, it was just his mouth that was moving. It was Dick, trying to draw out her out, but it only took half a second for Barbara to lift her arms up around his neck and kiss him back, just as hard.

They were fighting with their mouths, both trying to secure dominance over the other, but neither of them managing, a constant tug-a-war of power. She was Batgirl. Someone who had never truly been a _sidekick_ in the traditional sense, forging out her own path with the help of Batman but never wholly alongside him. He was Nightwing, the first Robin. The first sidekick. The first child strong enough to run around with the Justice League as an equal, and who created his own league when they didn’t treat him like one.

Neither of them had to back off. They didn’t have to hide their strength. But they could show off their skills.

Dick softened his end of the kiss, and she complied, pushing her hands up into his hair, pulling the long strands in her fingers as they grabbed for something more desperate between them. He tried to tell her. Tell her how much she meant. 

He deepened their kiss.

 _I love you,_ he said, and she heard him, but he said too much.

Barbara yanked away with a gasp, throwing herself as far away from Dick as she could. She raised her hand to her mouth, rubbing her lips with the back of her fist. “Don’t kiss me like that again,” she whispered.

Dick was catching his breath but regained his composure after a moment. “Don’t kiss me back again.” He straightened up and walked towards her. He leant into Barbara, the way she had to him, but reached her to the elevator buttons, opening the doors. He moved, so his lips were near her ear. “I just thought you should know, Batgirl.”

He pressed by her, straightening up and moving by her.

When he was out in the lobby, texted Bruce to apologise that he was going back to Blüdhaven early, despite what evening the Gala was. Even though he’d said Blüdhaven, he was tossing up between his apartment in Blüdhaven or taking a plane to Titan Tower.

He’d had enough of Gotham for one evening.

* * *

_Alive, alive, alive._

The mantra played in Dick’s head like a bad nursery rhyme as he first became aware. His eyes weren’t opening, and he knew that he was surrounded by silence. So much so, he could hear the faint thrumming of his heartbeat in his ear.

His eyelids were heavy. Too heavy to open.

He swallowed, tongue thick his mouth and cleared his throat, trying to make a noise. Maybe if someone were nearby, they would respond to him waking, and that would give him a hint as to where he was.

 _Alive, alive, alive, alive…_ His brain tried to remind him, and he sucked in a breath.

Bruce was alive.

Alfred.

_Jason._

He forced his eyes open through the sedative and groaned, sitting up. He was on a plane. A private plane. Slade’s private plane and they were parked on a tarmac somewhere bright and sunny. _Good job, Dick. Now put the rest together._

Jason was alive. He’d been kidnapped by Slade. Dick paid Slade to take Dick with them. Jason freaked out and dislocated his thumb to get out of his cuffs. He’d taken out Slade, and he had knocked Dick out, because of Catalina…

_Catalina…_

The combination of her name and the sedatives proved toxic because Dick leant over the chair he’d been stuffed in and threw up on the fancy carpet.

Jason was going to kill Catalina.

He had seen the wild look in his eyes when he’d figured it out. Jason had always had a thing about rapists. There were two despicable crimes in his book. Rape, and selling drugs to anyone under the age of eighteen. But rape especially made him violent before he began his Jokerfied murder spree.

 _Rape._ The R-word. Dick shuddered, feeling the heavy press of her hands on his chest.

He knew what she did.

He had almost lost his job and was homeless after Blockbuster blew up his apartment. He hadn’t slept in days, and he had just watched someone get shot through the head. _Twice_. Dick had been vulnerable and not in his right mind, and Catalina had taken advantage of that. 

Advantage of him.

Even right after, when he had been in denial about it. Homeless and unsure of how he could face Bruce again after killing Blockbuster, or Barbara after being with Tarantula, Dick had stayed in a motel with Catalina for a week. He had slept with her, again and again, because he’d convinced himself, that was what he’d wanted it, even though he hadn’t. Not one single time. When he ended their twisted relationship and told her to never return to his city, she had been devastated, but he’d run her into South America, chasing away the part of his life he wanted to erase.

He’d accepted it. Or he had accepted the fact that it happened. He had to because it had been driving him insane.

But God, he never wanted to talk about it.

He didn’t– couldn’t _deal_ with it. Nor could he deal with the knowledge that someone else knew about it.

 _Stupid, stupid, stupid…_ Dick clutched his head, leaning on the armrest as he pushed down the sedative he’d been given. He hadn’t seen it, clutched in Jason’s hand on the other side of his body. Hadn’t even known it was there.

 _You can’t handle him,_ Bruce said in the back of his head.

“Shut up, Bruce,” Dick muttered low, fighting off the next wave of nausea.

_Bruce!_

Dick sat up way too fast, and his head felt like an iron ball being swung around in a pillow case. A loose thread connected to a heavy weight. The bile rose in his throat, but he pushed it back down and pushed himself up to his feet, clutching the back of the plane seat to keep him stable.

Everything turned upside down, and he had to suck in a deep breath to stop himself from blacking out again. While the world came into focus he realised, for the first time, a blanket had been thrown over his chest. It was pooled at his feet, in the vomit pile and he felt a tinge of regret. He would have been touched if he wasn’t panicking over the cold snarl that had been pressed into Jason’s features before he’d been knocked out.

Dick waited until the world tilted back into focus, his eyes squaring in on the seat he’d left Deathstroke in. Slade was gone, and in his place, was a plastic bag. Dick stumbled over to the seat, holding himself up with his arms, his legs, and his core, and opened the bag.

There was a two-litre bottle of water, a few energy bars and an apple, and he grabbed the water and chugged some back, needing to get the vomit taste out of his mouth. Jason, it seemed had managed to pull at a few threads of his sanity. Or at least enough to care about Dick’s wellbeing when he woke up. He stashed the energy bars in his pocket, except one, which he opened to eat as he began a search.

Wherever Deathstroke was, it wasn’t on the plane. His preliminary search came up with no bodies and nothing of use except Slade’s bag of clothing and armour. His costume was gone, as was his mask, but there were blacks still there. He grabbed the whole bag and put it to one side, where his addled drug brain couldn’t forget about it.

 _Communication,_ he thought. _Need a phone… or a radio._

Dick started looking under seats, his head spinning every time he ducked down. He took another swing of water each time until he found a box.

There was a clunky box beneath the chair. A satellite mobile.

Not secure, but good enough.

He found himself sitting on the ground, unable to get up. Searching had sucked the energy he’d gained from his quick nap, right back out of him. He pulled on the phone and dialled into the League’s communicators. It rang twice before it connected. “Identify yourself.” The computer’s voice sounded like Alfred. It used to be a woman’s, but Tim had made a program to mimic Alfred’s voice as a joke, but Bruce seemed to like it and installed it in the next League update.

“Nightwing. Designation B-zero-one,” he grunted into the computer. He could feel the sedative sluggishly moving through his system, trying to put him back to sleep. But he’d had enough training to stay awake through most mild sedatives. Bruce had made sure of that.

It took a minute… or maybe an hour. Dick was a little fuzzy. But eventually, Alfred’s voice came through again. “Who do you wish to contact?”

Dick hadn’t thought that far ahead.

He couldn’t get through to Bruce. He’d already tried that when he’d first thought Bruce was dead. His phone wasn’t online. _Tim or Barbara,_ he thought. Dick cleared his throat, and his brain began to form the name _Robin_ when his mouth did something against his will. “Oracle… designation B-one-six.”

The reply was almost instant. “Go for Oracle.” It was strange that just her voice calmed Dick’s jumbled thoughts. Everything about her made him better. “Hello?”

He had taken too long to answer. He cleared his throat. “O,” Dick grunted. “O it’s me. It’s… ‘Wing.”

“Nightwing! Crap. Where are you? Wait. Don’t worry, I’m tracking this call.”

“Good… Good…” He started to drift off, images of long red hair, tangled between his fingers. A princess in a black leather dress, dancing through the sky.

“Are you injured?” Oracle’s panicked voice burst through his psyche, and he opened his eyes. The energy bar had done little to fight against the sedative, and he’d burnt himself out trying to walk around the plane.

He was falling asleep.

“Oracle… It’s Jay… he drugged me.”

There was a gasp on the other side of the phone. “Shit. Robin was right. Hold on, Dick. I’m patching us through to B. Stay awake. B?”

“Oracle?” Bruce’s stern tone came through the line, and Dick flinched.

“Nightwing’s on the phone. Jay drugged him. Robin was right. Jason was behind the kidnapping.”

Dick sat up as Barbara’s words hit his brain. “No! That’s not what happened. B… That’s not…” Dick’s words tumbled away. He needed to fix his head on straight. He wasn’t making sense, and he was misleading them. If he said the wrong thing, it could mean the difference between them stopping Jason and _stopping_ Jason.

“Nightwing. Report,” Bruce demanded.

Nightwing licked his dry lips. “Slade took us. Took Jay. I bargained with him.”

“You took out a contract on yourself. I know. Where’s Jay?”

“Got him mad. ‘Bout Catalina… he just… lost it. Couldn’t talk to him after that. He knocked out Slade. Drugged me. Left me on the plane. Took Slade. Dunno where.”

“Do you know where he is?”

“No. But I think he’s got Slade’s phone… Y’can track… B, come get me. I gotta be there when you find him… gotta stop him… Please?”

“We’re ten minutes out on your location.”

“Adrenalin…”

“Don’t worry, N. I have an adrenalin rush with your name on it. Oracle, keep him talking. I’m rewriting the plan.”

Bruce got off the phone with a _click_ and Dick panted, trying to keep his eyes open. “Nightwing, hold on. Don’t fall asleep,” Oracle said. “What have you been up to? These last few months. We haven’t really spoken.”

Dick opened his eyes, staring out the bottom of the plane window. He took a deep, steady breath in and out. “We don’t talk. We don’t talk at all.”

There was a pause. “That’s not fair.”

“Nothing’s fair, O,” Dick mumbled. “Didn’t you tell me that?”

There was a pause, where Barbara was lost for words.

“O… You r’lly thought Jaybird… Jaybird nabbed me?”

There was a shaky laugh on the other side of the phone. “… No. I just panicked. Are you okay?”

“Had worse,” Dick slurred. “Used to the drugs by now… wear off quicker.”

“They didn’t call you the most kidnapped Robin for nothing,” she teased softly.

It had been so long since she had teased him. It was nostalgic. Nice. “Only you called me that. Used to call me that…” Dick’s eyes fell shut again. “Miss you…”

“I miss you too, Dick,” she whispered softly. “Don’t fall asleep.”

“S’a sedative… not con… concuss…”

“Stay awake,” Barbara repeated.

But Dick was pretty sure he dozed off. He must have been out for a minute or more, because the next thing he knew, he felt something stab him in the chest and a sudden rush of energy, as Barbara’s voice yelled in his ear, “Wake up!”

He yelled and sat up, eyes wide and pupils dilated into saucers in his head. “I’m up! I’m awake! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Dick shouted, launching to his feet.

Dick looked around. In front of him were Catwoman, Robin, and an Assassin of some sort. He blinked, and Dick realised who it is. “Bruce. Wow. I mean, we all know black suits you, but nice suit. I wouldn’t even recommend the pop of colour. Ah hell. I totally recommend a pop of colour. Maybe a yellow. Yellow looks nice on you, B.”

Robin rolled his eyes. “God, I hate it when he takes adrenaline.”

“Nightwing, you up?” Oracle said through the phone.

Dick leant down and collected the satellite phone. “Up and at ‘em, O. Thanks for the pep talk.” He opened the bag of armour he’d found. He grabbed it and pulled it up on the seat, so he didn’t have to bend over to find what he needed. He took out some armour and spun around to face Bruce, Tim and Selina. “Let me get dressed, and then we go!”

“Dickie,” Tim said. He pulled out Dick’s spare outfit from the plane. “I came prepared.”

“Oh man, I love you.” Dick dropped the bag of armour and snatched his suit. His suit. All black and blue and with pockets of things.

Bruce huffed. “Hurry up. We got a location on Jason. Tell us what happened on the way.”

Even with the adrenaline, Dick’s fear spiked as he thought of Catalina and Jason in the same room together while Jason _knew_. “Yeah, yeah. Let me get changed.” He ripped off his shirt and Selina turned around with a roll of her eyes and Bruce and Tim looked pointedly away.

“I _hate_ him on adrenaline,” Tim reiterated. 

* * *

The tunnel vision had subsided, a little, staring out at Tarantula’s headquarters.

Jason could hear himself a bit better, but he was still burning at Dick’s confession. Jason knew, on some level, that he was reacting to this all wrong. That on some wiki-how-to page somewhere it said that when someone confessed something like sexual assault to you, you didn’t stab them with a sedative, because you plotted their abuser’s death and needed them out of the way.

But Dick had been his hero before he’d been his brother. When Jason Todd the street kid had seen Robin flying through the sky, he had admired the hell out of him.

Dick wasn’t innocent by any stretch of the word, but he was good. He was so good to Jason, and Jason was furious he’d worked so closely with someone who had hurt him so vilely.

_I was gonna use her. I wanted to use her for The Siege. I would have broken Dick forever if I did._

Jason had to stop himself from screaming every time he remembered that he’d almost invited Tarantula back to Gotham with him.

If she hadn’t put the bounty on his head... if he hadn’t retaliated and tried to pull down her empire... If he had told her his secret earlier...

 _If, if, if..._ The problem was, Jason may have been a criminal, but even he had standards. Catalina had done the unthinkable, and for that, she would pay.

When Jason followed Deathstroke’s flight plan, he found himself on a tarmac, just outside the city, with a van. He landed the plane and carried Slade over his shoulder to the truck, filled with water and energy bars, and he figured Dick would need them when he woke up. He moved Dick into one of the more comfortable chairs so he wouldn’t be in too much pain when he woke up and left the supplies in his line of sight. He found a bag with Deathstroke’s spare costume, and pulled it on, stripping out of his clothes, and took his mask and weapons too. It was still too big to him, a little over three years from the last time he’d worn it.

He shifted it around his body, so it looked like it was his. He was sitting in the van, waiting, with Deathstroke in Jason’s too tight clothes and a black bag over his head in the backseat. He’d texted Tarantula, and said he had landed in Mexico and was on his way. A few minutes after he texted, the movement around the building changed. People became more vigilant, and they were less relaxed

He waited.

It was almost an hour later when the sun began to set over Mexico City, that a sleek black sedan drove into the driveway of the building, looking too flash for the slum it was in the middle of. Jason slid back into his chair as the car was let into the building. Tarantula was in that car. He was sure of it.

 _No more killing,_ Bruce’s voice pierced through him. He grimaced, closing his eyes. His head fell forward, and he tried to get the voice out of his head.

“I can’t promise that,” he whispered, reliving the conversation.

“We let the law handle it.” Jason jumped as he turned to look behind him. Bruce was in the seat next to him. Or at least, the hallucination of Bruce was sitting next to him. He closed his eyes, but the image of his father was behind his eyes too. “And if you won’t do it for me, do it for yourself.”

He hadn’t had that kind of hallucination in years. Auditory, visual…

“I’m fine with it,” he replied numbly.

A hand slid on his shoulder, and Jason jumped and tried to shake it off. There was no one there. Sensory hallucinations too, it seemed. He’d been less aware of the delusions years ago. He hadn’t been sure what was real or not. Now he had a bit better of an understanding, he could see that this was wrong. “It’s broken something inside of you… You’re broken, Jason.” Bruce glared at him, his eyes burning with rage.

Jason didn’t remember that…

Or maybe he did.

Was he losing his new memories now too?

He squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hand into his eyes, trying not to look at the hallucination. “I’m not broken,” he whispered.

“Yes, you are,” Fake-Bruce snapped at him. He had to remind himself it wasn’t real Bruce. It wasn’t real. “And once you do this, you’ll cross another line.”

“She hurt Dick,” Jason hissed, glaring up at him. Bruce wasn’t Bruce. He was Batman, the cowl covering his face. He grimaced and looked away. This he remembered. It was a recurring hallucination from Arkham. When he wasn’t sure who Bruce was anymore.

“Sooner or later, I’m going to realise just what you are. What you’ve always been.”

“Shut up,” Jason hissed.

But Batman didn’t. “You’re a criminal, Jason. No better than any of the rest of them.”

“Shut up!”

“I should have thrown you in Blackgate the minute I laid my eyes on you.”

Jason lifted his hands to his ears and pressed them into his ears. But the hallucination was in his head, and it didn’t care how hard he blocked his ears.

“Murder. Terrorism. You’re worse than your father now.”

“ _Shut up!_ ” Jason roared. He grabbed a knife from the thigh holster and lifted the blade, slamming it into Batman’s chest. The blade connected to the back of the passenger seat, stabbing straight through the material into the panel that divided the front and back of the van.

Jason gasped and stared at the knife his hand, then quickly yanked it out again to hide the evidence of what he’d done. It only made it worse. Stuffing and foam caught on the serrated edge of the knife and spilt out like guts.

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he spun around only to see Bruce, in his polo and jeans, a soft, sad smile on his face.

“You may believe in what you’re doing, but it’s taken something out of you,” Bruce whispered. He looked pointedly towards the seat. “No more killing, Jason.”

“I didn’t let Catalina have sex with me.” Jason spun and looked back towards the passenger’s seat and the stuffing chair melted away to an image of Dick, hands shaking as he explained.

Jason’s blood pressure went through the roof. “Fuck this,” he growled. He shoved the knife back into his thigh holster roughly and dragged Slade’s mask over his face. Jason drove the car into the driveway after Catalina. He was so distracted by his rage, that he didn’t notice four figures jumping across the rooftops and landing on the top of the building behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> <3
> 
> P.S. In case I forget to write this later... next chapter is going to only be from Bruce's perspective and will be my take on writing a true video game genre piece... So if you have played the video game (or watched I get played) I have little snippets paying homage to some specific game traits of the Arkhamverse.


	12. Stand Down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

Bruce followed the trail Talia had left for him through the Gala.

It wasn’t an obvious neon light flashing green and pointed  _up_.

It was more subtle. More _Talia._

There scent of amber on the dance floor.

A rose on table six, pointing to the entrance.

The door to the reception left ajar, a golden napkin tied around the handle.

They were all symbols to him.

Signs.

 _Follow me,_ they read.

He took out his phone in the lobby and messaged Alfred. _Talia is here. Keep an eye on things._

He looked around and golden glow of the elevator lights brightening the darkened hall, and he walked towards them.

The elevator went to the rooftop, where the penthouses were. He called another down and entered. From his wallet, he withdrew a master key for the Royal Hotel. He’d broken into the hotel enough as Batman, that it had been easier just copying one for himself than continually trying to crack the codes.

He looked up and down the penthouse level. There were four rooms up there, from memory. He frowned when he saw Room 357’s door open and the sound of a broken sob coming from the inside.

Bruce _knew_ that voice, and it wasn’t Talia.

He bolted for the door, flinging it open and Jason startled, jumping up to his feet and grabbing the closest thing he could use as a weapon – a corkscrew. He was in an attack position, but he was wavering, not entirely himself, and his face was puffy and red.

“Jason!” Bruce hissed.

“D- Bruce?” he hiccupped. He looked around the room, and quickly wiped his face. “I-I can explain.”

Bruce didn’t listen. He crossed the room in three strides and grabbed his son, pulling him behind his back and making sure he was safe, then looked around the room. It was littered with empty bottles, and the doors to the bedroom were wide open, the bed was ruffled and laid in. “Where’s Talia?” Bruce demanded, walking to the closet and yanking it open.

Of course she wasn’t there. She was the daughter of the Demon’s Head, and hiding in a closet wasn’t her thing, but he was beyond paranoid. He hadn’t believed when he saw her before, but now it was so obvious, that he couldn’t believe he’d missed it.

“T-Talia?” Jason asked. “What would she be doing here?”

She wasn’t in the room. Hadn’t been. She’d just led him up there. “Why are you crying?” Bruce asked, assessing him for something else. Some damage. There was a cut on his head, swollen and still bleeding. Around the rooms, were scenes of a fight. “What happened? Who hurt you?”

“No one,” Jason croaked, holding his head. Bruce fixed him with a glare. “Dick,” he admitted. Bruce hadn’t been expecting that answer, but Jason shook his head. “We had a fight. I threw the first punch, but he said he hated me so, I’m not mad.”

Bruce squeezed his eyes shut, trying to mentally update this information in his head. He realised it had to do with this girl – _Ariel Crowne_ he reminded himself – but the boys had never come to bloody blows before, and Dick would never let it get that far. Bruce looked around the room again. “Are you drunk?” Bruce demanded.

Jason flinched. “I… a little. Yeah. I guess.”

Bruce looked back to the bed. “You slept with Ariel,” he concluded. He looked back at Jason and glared at him. “Did you get the room, or did she?”

“Does it matter?” he mumbled.

“Well last I checked, you were sixteen and Frederick Crowne’s daughter is eighteen, so if she got the hotel room it’s coercion of a minor,” Bruce snapped, his rage building.

Jason huffed. “I did.”

“You used your emergency card.”

Jason wiped a stray tear from his cheek. “Yes.”

“To book a penthouse hotel room for a girl?” Bruce continued. “And then refused to come up on stage with us, when Alfred asked you specifically to be there, disappeared, got into a fight with your brother, and got drunk in with the door wide open?”

Jason looked down at his hand, at the corkscrew. He then looked up pathetically at Bruce. “I thought Dick closed the door,” he said pathetically.

That set Bruce’s instincts on fire. Jason was good with security, even when under the influence, knew all exits and entrances to a room. He had to know those things when living on the streets, and it was a habit Bruce encouraged. “You sure he closed the door?” Bruce asked.

Jason frowned, swaying on his feet. “I... yeah. He slammed it. He was pissed... I kneed him in the balls.”

“Why?” Bruce asked but stopped Jason from speaking with a single look. “No. Not now. If it’s just about a girl, now is not the time. We’ll talk about it later, but for the meantime, you’re grounded. No parties, no friends, no Robin.”

Jason blinked, tears rapidly filling his eyes. “Why? I didn’t do anything!”

“Jason. You’re sixteen, drunk, in the middle of a one of the Royal’s most expensive hotel room, after a one night stand when you were supposed to be downstairs with the rest of the family,” Bruce said calmly. “Now grab your jacket. We’re leaving.”

But Jason didn’t seem to hear him, too lost in the mini-fridge of alcohol he’d just consumed.

“You _always_ take Dick’s side,” Jason said, tears rolling down his face. “Everyone takes his side. And everyone likes him better, and he hates me...”

“No one hates you, Jason,” Bruce replied evenly.

“Yes, they do! All those people at the gala hate me, and even Dick said it!” He sucked in a deep breath. “I’m never gonna be good enough for those assholes, and I don’t know why I’m _surprised_ or even why I keep trying and…”

Bruce stifled his groan and had to remind himself that Jason was drunk and tended to be an emotional drunk. He had seen him drunk before twice. Once when he managed to sneak some drinks at Roy’s birthday at Titan Tower, and another time when Dick and Jason thought they weren’t going to get caught sneaking out wine from the cellar. Both times he had been overly happy - until he began throwing up, at which point he turned into a blubbering mess of apologies.

“Jason,” Bruce cut off his drunken moping, moving toward him and grabbing him by the shoulders. He wanted to reassure him, but he wasn’t sure how much he would retain. It didn’t matter anyway, because he had more urgent matters. “Listen to me. I need you to go downstairs. You’re inebriated, and I need you to leave.”

Jason frowned. “Leave?”

“Go home,” Bruce repeated. “Get Alfred. Tell him to take you home. I think Talia is here, and you’re not up to a fight.”

“I can help!” Jason hiccupped, rubbing his face dry.

“What did I just say?” Bruce growled.

Jason frowned, thinking about it. “Something about Alfred…”

“Go. Get. Alfred,” Bruce said sternly.

“You hate me too,” Jason said, his bottom lip trembling.

“I don’t–” Bruce’s words were cut off by a slam of the hotel door.

He spun around, holding Jason behind his back and stared at the shadowy hallway.

“Hello, my beloved,” Talia said, stepping out into the light. She was dressed in a blood red dress that draped off her like the robes of a Grecian goddess. “May we talk?”

Jason stepped around Bruce, stumbling. “Okay, Talia. You want to fight. Let’s dance.” He wavered on his feet and turned green and the next thing Bruce and Talia knew, he was grabbing a wine bucket and throwing up into it.

Bruce closed his eyes and sighed. “Can I take care of him first?”

Talia walked over to the couch, swiping an empty peanut packet to the floor, and sat down. “I’ve got time.”

* * *

Bruce felt naked.

“That’s him!” Nightwing said, point to the van that was driving into the building. He held the GPS in his hand, and they watched as the truck was let in through the underground.

Bruce huffed his displeasure at missing their opportunity to get to Jason without causing too much of a scene and tried not to show his discomfort at being so exposed.

He had on a full suit of Kevlar and a hooded mask, but it was wrong.

It wasn’t Batman.

Nightwing had, mostly, come down from his adrenaline rush but was still a little excitable. It had been hard to get anything out of him, though the delay of getting to the building had been in trying to navigate silently through streets they were unfamiliar with.

Planted across from the building that was Tarantula’s, Bruce assessed the situation they were in. Their plans would have to adjust. Again. From trying to rescue Jason and Dick from Catalina to trying to save Catalina from Jason. Their lives were far from average.

He scratched the back of his neck, and Selina eyed him knowingly, then her eyes swept up and down his suit. She smirked.

He rolled his eyes back in silent conversation.

Yes. He missed the suit.

Especially the sensors in his helmet.

That wasn’t the priority.

He reassessed the plan. The building layout. The players they had.

He pressed his finger to his ear, activating his comms. “Oracle, can you get a scan of the building, and locate Catalina and Jason?”

“You insult me,” she replied. There was some typing on the other side then– “I’ve tracked their mobiles and am scanning the building for heat signatures. Jason in the garage with what looks like a knocked-out Slade.  Catalina is on the east side, moving with four men towards the courtyard. I think they’re taking Jason their too.”

Bruce nodded. “Catwoman, Robin, approach from the north. Get into one of the rooms overlooking the courtyard and wait for my signal. Nightwing and I are going to take a more direct approach.”

“Direct?” Robin asked.

Bruce turned to Nightwing. “You were going to go through the front door, weren’t you? Use your connection to Catalina?”

Bruce watched him pale. He frowned and Dick cleared his throat and nodded. “Um… yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

“Good,” Bruce said slowly. “Now go.”

Catwoman and Robin both spread out on either side of him and, with grappled across to the next building, swinging around and climbing up to the rooftop. Bruce had marked out the entrance before. He watched them disappear then turned to the next part of his plan.

But Dick didn’t move.

He stood, frozen on the building and stared in front of him with his eyes glazed over. “Dick,” Bruce said.

Dick blinked and looked up at him, shaking his head. “Yeah?”

“Go. I need you to distract them,” Bruce said, only the slightest bit impatient.

Dick nodded slowly. “Distract… yeah. Yeah okay.” Dick cleared his throat and tapped on his comms. “Um, O… can you message Catalina for me? Tell her I’m outside the garage and to let me in. Don’t want to be shot while I’m… distracting.”

He didn’t wait for Bruce to say anything, jumping down off the building, and using his grapple to stop himself from crashing to earth. There was a pause as he looked both ways to cross the street, when Oracle came back on and said, “She’s sending a man out to get you. Be safe, N.”

Bruce watched as Dick went through the sliding doors and raised his hand above his head. He was being ushered in by a man with a gun. Bruce pressed on his comms. “Oracle, I need you to get me in low, but with a clear view.”

He could hear her fingers clicking on the keys, and her brain analysing the data. “Get to the roof. I’ll get you through.”

Bruce did, grappling across to the next rooftop, clinging to the side because there were guards on the roof.

It was the cape. He missed the cape. He could have flown over Mexico City in minutes to get to Jason, but he was stuck grappling up and down and lost time.

He turned on his comms so he could hear Dick.

“Is this really necessary?” Dick snapped to whoever was patting him down, as Oracle whispered instructions to his ear.

“There are three guys on the roof. You only need to take the one out on the east side, and that will give you a direct path to the vents.”

Bruce gripped to the side of the building, happy he kept up his training as he shimmied along the edge of the rooftop from the south. He lifted himself up enough so he could see his target.

It was easy.

The guy had his back to Bruce, smoking a cigarette, and the other two were too far away to see him. He crouched down, his hands stretched out in front of him. When he was close enough, Bruce grabbed the man with one hand over his mouth, the other arm across his neck and brought him down so the others wouldn’t be able to see him struggle.

He choked on cigarette smoke and ash, twirls escaping between Bruce’s fingers, but nothing able to get back in. With a wheeze, the man fell back against Bruce, and he gently lowered him down, hiding him from view behind the vent.

“Miss Tarantula told us to be thorough,” the bodyguard replied.

“I’m sure she did,” Dick replied, and Bruce frowned. He didn’t sound like his usual self. He was too on edge, though it might have been the adrenaline.

Oracle kept going. “B, go down that air vent in front of you. I’ve disabled the fans. It should be safe.”

Bruce shot into the vents, bracing his hands on either side of the vent to let himself slide down until he got to the fans. Oracle had stopped them like promised, but they were a barrier to the inside of the building. He lowered himself down carefully, using the bulk of his body to keep him from falling through, and reached down between his legs to undo the screws on the corners.

“Jason’s on the move B. Ahead of Nightwing. He’s been led to the courtyard. Slade is dragging behind him,” Oracle updated them.

He grunted his acknowledgement. When three of four of the screws were loosened, Bruce pushed on foot through the gap between the fan blades, hooking it onto his leg, and held himself up with his hands again. With a sharp kick of his free foot, he snapped the last screw, and the fan blades hooked onto his leg, without falling through the vents and creating a crash.

He lowered himself down, dropping lightly to the bottom of the vent, and slid the fan off his leg carefully, before squatting and continuing crawling through.

Dick spoke through the comms. “Where is Catalina?”

“We’re taking you to her. And your brother,” a woman replied. “That is why you’re here, no?”

“That’s why I’m here,” he agreed, and then he was moving.

“Go left. Keep heading up until you reach an intersection,” Barbara said.

Bruce did as told, getting to the intersection quickly.

“Good, B. You’re three floors above where I’ve calculated you’ll have the best view and projection. All of Tarantula’s men are gathering around the courtyard to watch whatever Catalina’s got planned for Jason. It’s a balcony, so you made need a disguise to blend in with everyone else. Go left, and you’ll come out near an elevator. I’ve called it for you. There’s someone in the hall, though. You just have to get to it without anyone seeing you.”

There was never a day he regretted giving Barbara her computers.

He slipped through to the left and found himself looking out a grate. _This is familiar,_ he thought to himself, eyeing the guard walking up and down the room. He was staring at his phone, playing a game as he leaned on the wall right below Bruce.

The headquarters were made of old apartments, and the halls weren’t decorated in anything more than cement and fluorescent lights. There were advantages and disadvantages to it.

Advantage – he could see anyone who was coming.

Disadvantage – they could see him too.

Bruce carefully eased the grate off, buckling the bars, and placed them beside him. The man below had yet to notice him.

The silver elevator doors dinged and opened.

The man didn’t look up from his phone. Bruce huffed. He was too close to the wall to get a good angle on him unless he risked someone nearby spotting him.

The elevator opened wide, and Bruce had a feeling Barbara had something to do with it.

The longer they stood there, the more he was sure. “B, you need to go,” Oracle said. “Jason is coming up to the courtyard.”

“Huh?” the guy on his phone looked up, distracted by the unmoving doors. “What the–” He pushed himself off the wall towards the elevator, confused as to what they were doing. Bruce didn’t need another signal. He dropped out of the vent, to the floor silently, and moved behind the man, decked out in Tarantula’s colours.

He stood up and wrapped his hand around the man’s mouth, just as he did for the man on the roof, and dragged him into the lift. “Oracle,” he grunted. This man had more of a struggle in him, and it was hard to keep him pinned. “Can you?”

The doors shut and the elevator began to move, just as the man in Bruce’s arms went limp. He huffed, relaxing, and laid the man down on the ground. He rolled his stiff shoulder and cracked his neck. Yes, he had been keeping up with his training, but he hadn’t been backing it up with his usual routine of going out at night, swinging from rooftop to rooftop, and beating people up.

“B, go to the apartment across the hall when you get out. You need to run because two groups are converging from either end,” Oracle told him.

Bruce grabbed the hat and yellow-orange scarf from the man he’d rendered unconscious. He pulled the hat over his hood, the thin material allowing some give around his head, and then tied the scarf around his face. If no one looked at him too closely on the balcony, he could pass for another of Tarantula’s men watching the proceedings.

The elevator doors dinged. “Go!” Barbara shouted, and Bruce took off across the hall and hit the door.

It was locked.

“Crap!” Oracle swore. “Okay, let me–”

But Bruce didn’t have time. He could hear the footsteps. He dashed for the next door, and it was, thankfully, unlocked. He slid inside and shut it, just as Tarantula’s men rounded the corner.

He laid back on the door and waited in case someone approached. When they didn’t, Bruce locked the door and took in the mostly barren apartment, sans balcony. There was a mattress, a collapsible table and some paraphernalia littered over the place. It was a guest room, he supposed, for traveling members of Tarantula’s men to crash in.

Okay. Maybe he did miss the ears.

“Oh shit, B,” Selina cut through the comms. “We got a problem.”

Bruce moved to the window and looked up. He could see Catwoman and Robin, a few levels above everyone else, in two balconies on opposite sides. The other two guards on the roof were nowhere to be seen. “We’re outnumbered and outgunned. Twenty-to-one, at least,” Selina said. “We’re spread too far out to control it.”

She was right.

They were spread too thin to control them. “Robin,” B said.

He could see Robin hesitate from where he was before his youngest raised his finger to his comm. “I’m here.”

“How much knock out gas did you bring?”

Again, Tim hesitated. Bruce watched him, from behind the curtains, tightening his fist together. “Eight. I have eight,” he said, his jaw tense.

Bruce frowned but slid that into the back of his head for the moment. “Right now, at least ten balconies have four to six people on them. If you can plant the gas on eight of the most filled, that will increase our odds.”

“I can help with that,” Catwoman said. “Robin, meet me where we split up.”

“Be right there,” Robin replied, and they both disappeared from Bruce’s view.

There was movement below, in the stomach of the building, and Bruce finally shifted his attention to what was going on down there. Though he was on the fourth floor, he was only a level up from the courtyard, and it wasn’t far of a drop.

His eyes narrowed in on Catalina, standing in the centre of the courtyard. The courtyard was a communal share facility. Or it had been, back when the apartments were in use. It was covered in sandy dirt, that coloured all the walls of the building in yellow, and there were broken park benches, pots of dead plants, and an empty swimming pool there too. The fibreglass bottom of the pool was filled with leaves and more dirt and stained with something that suspiciously looked like dried blood.

There were other people down there. Two dozen or so men and women, all carrying weapons and dressed in Tarantula’s yellow and black, and a familiar face by her side.

Doctor Bradford Thorne.

 _So that’s how Slade knew where to find us_. Bruce tightened his fists by his side. He would handle him later for betraying them. But for now, Jason was entering the courtyard, dressed as Slade. Bruce knew it was Jason because of the way he was walking. A purposeful stride, his hand twitching over his gun. Bruce’s eyes darted up to the balconies. They weren’t ready for a fight, and Bruce knew that when they moved to separate Jason from Catalina, it was going to be a fight.

He couldn’t hear what they were saying, and there was no chance to read Jason’s lips with Slade’s mask on his face. All he knew was that he could see Jason trembling with rage, though he was trying very hard not to. _What got you so mad at Catalina? Or did you find out about Bradford?_

Catalina held her hand up to Jason, interrupting him and signalled for someone else to approach.

It was Nightwing was being led in by four guards, their guns trained on him. Jason tensed, his hand hovering over his gun. As Dick approached, his comms picked up on the conversation. “…doing here?” Jason demanded. “You’re not supposed to be here!”

Dick held his hands above his head, showing the men behind him and Catalina he wasn’t there for a fight. “I’m here to talk to Catalina,” Dick said evenly. “To bargain for my brother’s life.”

“Querido, this is such a pleasant surprise,” Catalina said.

The effect was instant. Jason rounded on her, hand grabbing his gun. He lifted it and pointed it at Catalina’s head. Immediately, four dozen weapons were raised and aimed at him, and Dick grabbed Jason’s shoulders and held him back. “Don’t talk to him!” Jason’s voice shook.

“Catwoman, Robin, are you ready?” Bruce asked, moving away from the window. He went back to the door and opened it. There was no one in the hallway. There wouldn’t be, with all the commotion in the courtyard.

“One charge left,” Selina reported.

“I got two,” Robin replied. “No, wait… One.”

“Hurry.”

“Jason,” Dick whispered, no doubt still holding Jason by the shoulders. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

Bruce frowned as he went to the room Oracle initially tried to direct him to. He withdrew a lock pick from his pocket and knelt in front of the door, working on the locks quickly.

“Nightwing, keep him talking,” Bruce said.

He couldn’t see Tarantula, but she sounded calm as she called one of her men. “Alberto. Please do take the bag off our young captive here.”

Bruce heard the telltale _click_ of the lock opening and pushed the door. Inside was much the same as the first apartment he’d been in, only where the first had a window, this one had a balcony door. Bruce went straight out to it, inserting a rebreather between his lips, just as Jason pulled back Slade’s mask to show his face. Slade’s bag was already gone, and Catalina wore a sly smile.

“Interesting,” Catalina said. “So you planned to come here and kill me before I could kill you?” Bruce loaded up two tiny bottles of chemicals into his dispensers on his wrist and rolled his sleeves back down.

“Originally, the plan was to learn how you knew where to find me,” Jason hissed. He pulled out a second gun, aiming it at Bradford. “Then a little birdie told me exactly what you were.”

“B, we’ve got all the gas in place. Waiting for your signal.”

He couldn’t wait. Jason was a powder keg, and one wrong move and Catalina and Bradford were dead. Bruce pulled two batarangs from his pocket and aimed them at Jason’s hands and, with a quick flick, knocked them from his grip. Jason jumped in surprise and Tarantula looked up to see Bruce jump off the balcony. He landed in a crouch between two of Catalina’s men, and wrapped his arms around their necks and brought their skulls together. Above him, Robin set off the knock out gas, and eight balconies of Tarantula’s men and women choked and coughed themselves into unconsciousness.

“Stop them!” Tarantula ordered, and chaos broke out.

Bullets began to pelt down around him, but Bruce jumped out of the line of fire, behind one of the potted plants, the terracotta dissolving around him. He heard, more than saw, Catwoman and Robin descend into the fray, drawing some of the fire away from him. When Bruce got up and looked around, he saw that Jason and Dick were in fights of their own. Jason had knocked out Bradford and was engaged in a close range fight with Tarantula while Dick was taking out her men, and at the same time, blocking Jason’s deadlier blows.

Bruce wanted to go to them, but he had no time to help his family as Tarantula’s people blew out the pot he was hiding behind. He drove forward, and held up his wrists in front of him, dispersing a thin film of a hallucinatory fear toxin into the faces of the men firing guns at him. They all paused as he pulled himself to full height and looked around.

They all began to panic, some of them dropping their guns and some of them aiming them higher, and Bruce took advantage of their fear to snatch a gun out of the hands of the woman to his left and another one from a man to his right with his grapple. One of the men began to scream as his fears took control of him, and Bruce knocked him out with the butt of the gun he stole from the first man and kicked a woman so hard in the chest that she bowled over three of her companions like pins.

If fighting was a dance, Bruce was a choreographer.

Time slowed around him, measuring seconds in punches and minutes in kicks; grunts of pain and the _clunks_ that signalled another one was down. He wasn’t fighting them, so much as making them fight each other, the fear gas turning friends into enemies, and dodging attacks in a way that they took out their allies. He timed them to an invisible beat, and they fell in succession.

He wasn’t counting how many were around him but measuring his success in how much the sea of bodies to Jason cleared. A bullet nick him – the Kevlar was weak at the seams – and it slowed Bruce for half a second as he clutched his side to stem the instant blood flow, but then he was back, dodging under a fist and grabbing the arm, dislocating it, and tossing another body aside.

Soon after the bullet, a punch landed on his chin and he spat out the rebreather. He turned his head at the same time as Catwoman caught a kick to her torso and went down. His heart lurched in his chest, and he looked to see Nightwing, still fighting Tarantula’s men and Jason, and Robin, back to the wall, but fighting like a man possessed and winning. One of the women aimed her gun at Selina’s head, and he was about to leap through his crowd to help her when she flicked her whip, and it caught onto a pot plant, then yanked it across the courtyard and smashed into the woman’s head.

She jumped back up to her feet, and propelled herself forward, back into the fray and going for Tim.

“Jason!” Nightwing shouted.

Bruce turned his head and the momentary distraction meant he caught another bullet. The second one was on his bicep, and it went deeper than the first. He shouted and looked to his attackers, unable to see what Nightwing was yelling about, and found four more gang members coming for him.

He took out his batarangs and hit each of them in the head, dazing them for just long enough that he could swing around and land a kick that knocked each of them to the floor. Once they were down, Bruce turned back to Nightwing and Jason.

Jason had managed to pin down Catalina and was landing brutal blows to her face. His fists, bare and smattered with blood – hers and his. Bruce looked for Catwoman, and she was helping Robin with dwindling numbers. “Catwoman! Cover me!” he shouted.

He didn’t even look to see if she heard, trusting she had and running to Jason.

Another bullet hit him, but it landed in the Kevlar, embedding itself in hard enough to make his shoulder give. He ignored the pain. Pretended like it didn’t exist and kept going until he was behind Jason.

He grabbed his son, and yanked him backward, off the broken, bloody woman, beaten within an inch of her life. Her face looked as though it was collapsed in on itself, and Bruce wasn’t sure if she’d make it. “Stop!” he shouted in his ear, but Jason lurched away from him. Bruce almost let him slip but somehow managed to hold him back. “Jason, stop! You almost killed her!”

Jason was rabid. “You don’t know what she did!”

He pulled against Bruce to go to her, and Bruce went with him momentarily, then dug his heels into the dirt. “Whatever it is, it’s not worth it.”

“It is!” Jason snarled, and he lurched forward again, but Bruce spun him around and shoved him in the opposite direction of Tarantula, blocking her with his body. “She–!” But Jason stopped himself, turning his head to look at Nightwing.

Nightwing, who had a collection of Tarantula’s unconscious men around him and was panting, staring at Jason with terrified eyes. He shook his head, and Jason clipped his lips together. Bruce could see the rage building up in him. He was livid, but not at Dick.

With a mighty shout, ripping his throat raw, Jason charged straight at Bruce, the one obstacle between him and Catalina.

With little time to think, Bruce braced himself then ran just as hard at Jason, their bodies crashing into one another. Jason was stronger, the Titan feeding off his adrenaline. But his anger made him sloppy. Bruce, on the other hand, angled himself just underneath Jason and managed to lift him. Jason’s momentum meant he flew onto Bruce’s shoulder, but Bruce ran them both across the courtyard until they collided with the wall. He pushed Jason up into it, holding his forearm across his sons throat.

The veins in Jason’s neck and forehead were all raised above his skin, and his face was red, eyes wilder than a caged animal.

“Stand down,” Bruce growled.

“You’re weak,” Jason snapped back. “You don’t know what to do with people like her.”

“Stand _down_ ,” Bruce repeated, ignoring what he said.

“You can’t let people like her live!”

“Stand. Down!”

“She won’t give up. She’ll come back, and she’ll learn like The Joker did. Like they all do! You can’t keep letting them walk!”

“Stand down, Jason!”

Jason shouted his frustration and shoved at Bruce, but Bruce was prepared and didn’t let Jason knock him off his feet. When he realised he couldn’t get through, Jason fell forward into Bruce instead, screaming into his shoulder. Bruce let him, not slackening his grip until his roar died out into a choked sob and his legs gave out underneath him.

Bruce grabbed Jason before he went to his knees and held him as best as he could so he wasn’t on the floor. “It’s okay.” Bruce shifted him so Jason’s arms were around his neck and he could help hold his weight. He kept one arm around Jason’s back, and the other went to the back of his neck, to squeeze the bones there and hold him steady. “I’ve got you. You’re okay.”

The fighting behind them was over, and Tim, Dick, and Selina were all standing still and watching them. Jason wasn’t crying, but he was trembling and breathing heavily as if he’d run a thousand miles at full speed. Sweat soaked him through, and he was trying to push the adrenaline that was fuelling him down with little effect. “I can’t,” he panted. His hand moved to grab Bruce’s bicep where the bullet had hit, and he squeezed it, not aware of what he was doing. “ _Help_.”

Bruce didn’t buckle, even though his body tried to. He grunted and carefully, with his free hand, removed a sedative from his utility belt.

“Trust me,” Bruce said, pulling the needle up in his hands. Jason’s eyes flickered up to look through his wet bangs. He looked at the needle, then behind Bruce at Catalina. He ground his teeth together and nodded.

Bruce moved the needle up to Jason’s neck and popped off the cap. At the _plick_ of the cap, falling to the floor, Jason’s muscles tensed as if he was going to lunge again. Bruce never figured out of that was what he was going to do because he slid the needle into his neck and pressed the plunger.

Jason slumped further into Bruce’s chest, his eyes rolling into the back of his head and his body becoming heavier in his arms. When the hand in his bicep loosened, and fell, Bruce, sighed and relaxed, relieved it was over.

He felt Selina approach from behind, and she laid a hand on his shoulder. “What do you want to do?”

Bruce took a minute. He held Jason’s weight against him and finally caught his breath. It was only after he had himself together again, he lifted Jason up, his head slumped against Bruce’s shoulder and Bruce’s arms beneath his legs. “Call A.R.G.U.S. They’re looking for Catalina. Waller will keep our secrets for her own means, but that’s something to deal with in the future. For now, I need to take him home.” He looked over at Dick and Tim.

“I’ll get the jet,” Tim said, already walking away.

Dick just watched Bruce and Jason, at a loss for words.

With Bruce occupied with Jason, Selina moved to Dick’s side and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. She opened her mouth to say something kind when her eyes widened. “Shit. B, Slade is gone!”

Bruce looked away from Dick and to where Slade should have been. He must have gotten away in the scuffle. If Bruce were honest, he didn’t care.

Three sons.

Each of them broken in their own way.

 _One son at a time,_ Bruce thought to himself. _Help Jason. Listen to Tim. Talk to Dick._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gah, I wrote this chapter from everyone's perspective at least once, before I finally settled on doing the video game thing from Bruce...
> 
> Hope it still made sense, and that you enjoyed it.
> 
> So Dr Bradford was the one who betrayed them to Catalina (and that was going to be a bigger deal when it was from Jason's perspective, but in my head, Bruce was too focused on the bigger issue to care) so I'm sorry to everyone who liked him. I'm going to explain all of it in the last chapter. Swear it. ;)


	13. Long Talks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so damn long! Every time I tried to post this, ao3 screwed up, or I forgot to pay the internet bill, so it got disconnected (but that's a me problem).
> 
> I don't like writing long conversations with a lot of intense revelatory dialogue that basically spells out what happens. I find it uncomfortable to write.
> 
> That being said, here is a chapter of me doing just that.

Jason didn’t take too long to fix up.

When Talia revealed herself, Bruce knew she was alone, and with that reassurance, he got him to rinse his mouth then put him to bed. “We’ll get her next time,” Jason mumbled as he climbed onto the mattress.

Bruce couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips. He pulled the covers up to his chin. “Yeah. Okay. Remember, you’re grounded.”

“Mean,” Jason whispered, eyes shutting almost instantly.

Bruce smiled, and he gently moved Jason’s hair off his face. “I love you,” he said quietly, rubbing his knuckles over Jason’s cheek. “No matter what you think.”

He collected Jason’s tie and neatly placed his shoes next to the desk, then went back into the living room and shut the doors behind him quietly. He looked around the room, then let his eyes land on Talia. She was spread out over the couch and made it look like an accessory to her majesty.

She was majestic.

Like a tigress, lazing in a tree. It made Bruce wary that he might still be the gazelle Talia was considering whether or not to devour.

Bruce pointed to the bar. “I’d offer you something to drink, but Jason drank it all.”

“Yes, it does seem that way.” Talia assessed the room with a keen eye then looked up at Bruce. “My original plan had been to woo you on the balcony downstairs, but I saw him come up here and knew you’d feel guilty if you spent time with me while your son was in emotional distress. I’m trying not to make you feel guilty anymore.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say to that. So he smiled and raised an eyebrow. “You came here to woo me?”

Talia smiled back at him. “Well, I realised that I have little choice, considering how we left things.”

He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Well, you lied to me. You said you would never darken Gotham’s streets again. Unless I married you.”

Talia hummed. “Yes, well. Considering my presence usual is a prelude to destruction, I see how that threat could have been more of a blessing than a curse.” She pushed herself off the couch, prowling closer to Bruce. “I have missed you, Beloved.”

Bruce lifted his hand as she raised hers to catch her wrist before she could press her palm to his cheek. “Talia. It’s over. We’re over.”

“We are never over, Beloved,” she murmured, using her other hand to touch him instead. “We will never be over. Not truly.”

Bruce closed his eyes. It should have sounded like a threat, but it wasn’t. It was strangely comforting, and though a part of him wanted it not to be true, he knew she was right. 

Her fingers were warm where the gold of her rings didn’t cut in between her flesh and his. Those metallic touches were somehow as cold and impersonal as she was when they weren’t getting along. “We need to talk,” she whispered, leaning her face forward.

Bruce looked down at her lips, moving closer to his every second. “This doesn’t feel like talking, Talia.”

Her mouth pressed against his, and her hand trailed down to his chest, fingers spreading.

He didn’t kiss her back.

Just waited for her to finish.

When she pulled back, she had one eyebrow raised. “Did you not miss me?”

Bruce did.

So much.

Bruce had many, _many_ , girlfriends over the years. Few of them serious, most of them for the publicity, some of them just because he was a lonely selfish man. But he could count on his one hand the women who had parts of him.

Like Vicky Vale. She owned _Brucie,_ the persona and not the man. Everything he was, belonged to her and no matter how he changed and developed, Brucie was Vicky’s.

Then there was Andrea. Both versions of her held the pieces of him that were naïve and wanted to see the good. Because Bruce, in his core, was an optimist. He thought that one day, the chaos in Gotham could subside, and maybe things could change. The realist in him knew that wasn’t possible, and the pessimist planned for the worst. But Andrea held the optimist in her pocket and ran her bloodied fingers over him every time she stepped into town.

Diana held the pieces of him that were heroic and brave and stood for nobler things. The parts of him that stood in for something that little kids admired. Justice. Peace. Safety.

Selina had… well, Selina had things didn’t like dwelling on, and he kept them locked away with the pieces of her that she had delicately entrusted him with.

But Talia…

Talia owned the darkest parts of him.

The parts that considered things he’d sworn against.

Murder.

Death

Revenge.

Talia owned his want to be lethal, and at the same time was the reason he couldn’t be.

Because in her, he saw the destruction and hurt he could cause.

And the parts of him that she didn’t have – the bits and pieces that belonged to Diana, Vicky, Andrea and _especially_ the parts he left with Selina, were disgusted by all that Talia was.

But the darkness was always tempting.

“You said you weren’t coming back,” Bruce whispered.

Talia huffed. “I’d hoped it would make you come to me. But I should have known better. You would never abandon Gotham.”

“No. I wouldn’t,” Bruce replied. But there was a lot more he would have had to abandon than Gotham if he had accepted Talia’s offer, and he couldn’t give that up either. “If this is you asking me again to marry you–”

“It’s not marriage,” Talia said. “I rushed it, I know. The times we physically together were brief. Too brief…”

“Talia,” he groaned.

“Beloved,” she whispered, lifting her hand up to hold his jaw and trace his thumb.

He grabbed her wrist and stopped her. “I can’t do this again. Your presence endangers Gotham. Endangers my _family_.”

Talia easily removed her wrist from his grip and took either side of his jacket. “What if we had a family?” She rubbed the expensive material, staring up at him in her own version of a pout. A thinly veiled smile, and her eyes shimmering with love.

“We don’t, Talia,” Bruce replied. “We can’t.”

Talia tilted her head to the side. “We could have a family. Through me, you could have an heir,” she whispered.

That time, he stepped away. “I have two.”

“A true heir. A Wayne.”

Bruce shook his head. “They may go by different surnames to me, but they’re my heirs. My legacies, as Bruce and as Batman. They are my family Talia, and the reason why I cannot be with you is that you will never respect that, or them.”

Talia sighed, shaking her head. “I will not get into this argument again.”

“Neither will I,” Bruce said, and stared her down.

Talia hummed, her eyes lingering over his chest, down his body. “I’m working out of Blüdhaven for the next few months. I will be, close by. I would like us to try again.”

“What are you doing in Blüdhaven?” Bruce asked.

Talia shook her head. “That’s my business.”

“If it causes trouble for Dick, it’s my business too,” Bruce countered.

“There will be no trouble to him,” she assured him. “And if there is anything that may cause him harm, I will forewarn you. This I swear, my Beloved.”

That surprised Bruce. Talia was rarely so sincere. “Thank you,” he said.

Talia hummed. “Don’t thank me yet. I’m here, but my father is preparing to approach Gotham on some different matters. He’ll be here in the coming months.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Bruce asked.

Talia shrugged. “I sometimes see how much you struggle to rear your children. I do not understand it but… I can empathize with the difficulty. Some of it.”  A small smile flickered over her lips. “It’s my job to train the children of the League, you know.”

Bruce was finding out more and more by the minute. He wanted to ask Talia if she was drunk and to ask her why she was telling him so much, but her eyes moved towards the clock on the wall. “I must be off.”

But that wasn’t good enough. “Why are you here, Talia?”

“I thought,” she said, walking to the door. “I made that clear. I would like to resume our arrangement. Previous to my proposal, of course.”

Bruce frowned. “Arrangement?”

“Yes… hmm, what was it that Nyssa once said? Enemies on the streets, lovers between the sheets?” The grin on her face grew wider when Bruce obviously blushed. It had never been framed to him like that before. “Just think about it, my beloved. I know you find me distracting… but sometimes it’s good to be a little distracted.” She opened the door and acted as if she was about to leave when she looked over her shoulder. “Oh. Speaking of _distracted._ You _heir_ snuck off the balcony and climbed onto the roof. Or so says my man watching the building for me.”

Bruce’s stomach fell, and he turned to the bedroom doors, flinging them open.

The bed he’d just put Jason in was empty, and the doors to the balcony, wide open. He turned around to get Talia, but she was gone too. Cursing, Bruce rushed out to the balcony, reminding himself to add time to Jason’s grounding for deciding it was okay to climb up a building while intoxicated. 

* * *

The plane ride home was silent, bar the hushed conversation as they treated each other’s injuries, including all the bullet grazes Bruce had received. Bruce piloted, and Dick and Tim were mostly slumped in their seats while Jason was unconscious on the medical bench, with Selina nearby in case something happened.

When they got close to Mazatlán, Bruce sent word ahead to Barbara and Alfred about their status, and Alfred confirmed he would prepare a meal for their arrival. “Bruce, I’ve found a landing dock in the cliffs. It leads up to the cave. I’ll program the directions into the plane’s computer.”

“Thank you, Oracle,” Bruce said wearily.

A few hours later they were back in Mazatlán, and true to her word, Barbara had found a place to land the jet, and the rocks parted open to let them into an underground bunker.

He picked up Jason, and no one followed him when he went ahead through the bunker, up into Talia’s artificial cave, and through the house to Jason’s room.

He laid Jason on the bed carefully, then took his shoes off, and undressed him of Slade’s sweat-drenched suit. He had changed his sons while they were unconscious more times than he wanted to think about. Injuries abound, each time Bruce had to strip one of his sons or Barbara out of their uniforms and into something they could heal in, he wanted to put his fist through a wall.

Even though Jason was technically not injured, and he had been in Slade’s uniform and not his own, this time was no different. He went to the closet and opened the door, removing a soft tracksuit and shirt for him, and an even softer jumper. He began to turn when he noticed, at the back of the closet, a framed Shakespeare painting.

He frowned and looked back at the closet, realising for the first time, that all the clothes were very specifically Jason’s size and in style with what he usually wore. The outfits in all the rooms ranged in size, but if he thought about it, there were four very distinct styles and sizes of clothing. The ones in the room he’d set Jason up in had broader shoulders, like Jason. Dick and Tim both were slimmer and wore similar sizing, but the clothes in one of the rooms were much brighter than the clothing in the other, in colour schemes Dick frequently wore.

Most of the clothes in this room were black, red, white and grey – Jason’s preferred scheme.

Bruce reached out and pushed the Shakespeare aside and, like his closet, there was a button there. Bruce pressed it and stepped back, as the doors opened and a mannequin in Jason’s size – Jason’s size _now_ at twenty-two and not his slimmer childish seventeen-year-old frame – revealed itself. It was a black Kevlar suit like Dick’s, but with a cape and red and yellow splashes, and a cowl like Batman’s that was smooth over his head, a bird’s beak down the front.

Bruce’s knees almost buckled.

Because Talia _knew_.

He held her as she was dying and she _knew_ exactly where his son was. That he was alive. That he was suffering and alone, and she hadn’t said a word.

Bruce had thought Talia was selfish before, but now….

He stared at the suit for another minute, swallowed, took a deep breath, and slammed the button, so the automatic doors shut again. With that, he pushed all thoughts of Talia out of mind.

He went back to the bedroom, closing the doors behind him and went to Jason’s bedside, sitting on the edge. He lifted Jason up, so his was slumped against his chest and slid one arm in the t-shirt, then the other, before finally pulling it over his head, then repeated the process with the hooded jumper. Bruce laid him down against, just as softly as he had before. Although the sedative would keep him knocked out for a few more hours, he couldn’t help but be gentle.

Bruce put the tracksuit on him last but paused when he got them to Jason’s hips. Jason’s hip had been jarring him, but Bruce had never looked at it. He had assumed the joint would sort itself out with time, but now he saw there was a scar there, recent and puckered. It looked red and angry but obviously healed over. He frowned, his thumb brushing the injury and frowned. He pressed his palm down, pushing to feel the muscle where something was embedded under the skin. 

The Titan made him heal quicker, but not any better than average. It looked like it may have happened while he was fighting in Durango, right when his temperatures dropped. Bruce turned his attention to Jason’s clammy skin, then back at the wound.

He finished dressing Jason, theorising about what was keeping him so cold, and went to the hallway, unsurprised to see Dick standing in front of the door looking more like a scorned child than he deserved to. He’d changed out of his uniform and was back in jeans and a t-shirt, hair damp from a quick shower. “Tim left,” Dick murmured. Bruce flinched at that but didn’t speak. “He said he had to deal with something but… He’s just scared of Jason. Scared of what he can do.”

“That’s reasonable,” Bruce replied, walking by Dick to the closest linen closet. He opened it up, sure there was a medical kit in there. They popped up around the house like lost loose change.

 “Is Jason okay?” Dick asked.

Bruce didn’t nod or shake his head. Just rummaged through the closet. “He’s still sedated.”

Dick watched Bruce remove the medical kit, and he frowned his memory backtracking. “He wasn’t badly injured, was he?”

“No. Not now.” Bruce took out a needle and some vials and returned to Jason’s room. He set up the equipment on the side of the bed and Dick followed him inside, frowning the whole time.

“What do you mean?”

Bruce cleaned the bend of his elbow and plunged the needle into the vein he found. “Jason’s body isn’t regulating his heat. He constantly feels abnormally cold. At first, I thought it had to do with his psyche. He’s shown signs of depression, and it’s not uncommon for physical symptoms to manifest. Jason has always tended to huddle when he’s upset, but, with this, when he’s outside without a jacket, his teeth chattered in his jaw. I’m not so sure about it being linked solely to his mental state anymore.”

Dick watched Bruce remove the needle and press his fingers with a tissue to clot the blood. Jason looked pinched, even sedated. When Bruce had the vial sealed with a stopper and was confident the blood had clotted, he brushed his hand through Jason’s hair and rubbed the crease out of his brow with his thumb. “He has an injury on his hip, and I think there’s something lodged in there. While he overexerted himself today, it quite clearly irritated something that’s hidden beneath the injury, and if I’m right, it might be infected.”

“He’s not showing other signs of infection,” Dick noted.

“The Titan has increased his healing. He may have an infection, but his immune system is working overtime to combat it so he can still stand. But while he’s fighting off the infection, he has no systems left to keep him warm.” Bruce lifted the covers from the end of the bed and pulled them up to Jason’s chin, and tucked the side underneath him. “But it’s just a theory.”

Bruce collected the blood vial and ushered Dick out of the room to leave Jason alone to rest. Dick went to head downstairs, but Bruce caught him by the shoulder and nodded for him to follow, and he obliged. They went upstairs and, at the end of the hall, near his bedroom, there was an office. He went in first and held the door open for Dick. Once he was inside, he shut the door and pointed to the lounge.

Bruce busied himself for a moment, writing tests he wanted to be conducted on the blood sample on a post-it and sticky-taping it to the bottle. When he was finished, he sat down behind the desk and rolled himself inside. The office wasn’t like his office at Wayne Manor, with rich wooden walls and furnishings, and gothic architecture and a fireplace. It was white for one thing, with a glass table and double computer screens. The furniture – three chairs and a couch – were black and leather, with modern lighting fixtures and a window that stretched the entire space of the wall and overlooked the beach. He used a dimmer from the remote on his desk, to increase the opaqueness of the windows so the sunlight wouldn’t glare into Dick’s eyes, and shifted the window to black.

“Are you okay?” Bruce asked, studying Dick’s features.

Dick blinked in surprise, apparently not having expected that. “I’m fine.”

“Catalina is in A.R.G.U.S. custody now,” Bruce said. “It was Amanda who called. She’ll be treated and recruited as a member of the Suicide Squad eventually, but she’s promised me she’ll ensure you and your brother’s identities will be kept secret, for a favour from you. When the time comes to return that favour, you are to tell me, whether she gives you permission to do so or not. Do you understand?”

Dick frowned but agreed with a short nod of his head.

Bruce nodded back. He stayed behind the desk, putting a barrier between himself and Dick but only so that Dick could feel safe. So that he didn’t think Bruce was crowding him. “I never asked about what happened between you and Catalina. You know I try not to get involved in your love life, so when you vouched for her, I gave her the full support of us and our allies. But as soon as you took away your vote of confidence, I backed off. I didn’t argue the point, and I trusted you made the right decision.”

Dick was trembling in his seat, and Bruce eyed him, taking in the way his face had paled by a few shades.

“I never asked,” he repeated. “But should I have?” The shaking increased and Dick tightened his fists over the arms of the chair and bent his head down. Bruce waited. He wanted to know, but he would test the length of his patience for Dick to feel comfortable enough to tell him.

“I… I don’t want you to know.” He sniffed, holding in tears and Bruce’s lip twitched with annoyance.

“Is it about Blockbuster’s death?” Bruce asked, unwilling to let it go.

Dick shuddered, and that was enough of an answer for him.

“You told me it was just Catalina. Were you more involved than what you said?” Bruce prompted.

This time, Dick nodded and ice ran through Bruce’s veins as he considered that his sons had killed a Desmond brother each. “Did you kill him?” Bruce asked outright.

Tears fell into Dick’s lap, but he didn’t lift his head or try to look at Bruce. “I didn’t stop her.”

Bruce frowned. “Catalina killed him, and you didn’t interfere.”

Nod.

“Did you have the opportunity to interfere?”

Another nod.

“Why didn’t you?”

Dick’s knuckles were white as he got out the words through a pained voice. “He knew who Nightwing was. He blew up my apartment, Bruce, not because he spotted me there, but because he knew exactly who I was. He knew about Tim. You. Alfred… _Barbara._ He- he said her name.”

Dick wouldn’t lift his head, and Bruce couldn’t see his eyes. Bruce could detect what Dick was feeling through his body language after years of watching his eldest and being there for his many moods, but he knew what Dick was thinking through every flicker of his eyes. “Did _you_ kill him?” Bruce asked. “Did you pull the trigger? Did you tell her to stop?”

Dick heard him and fell forward, hiding his face in his hands. Bruce blinked at the sudden change in his son because his body went from despair to absolute terror. Bruce stood up as if the phantom threat his words presented to Dick’s thoughts had physically entered the room.

After a moment, he walked around his desk. “Dick?” He braced himself. Dick was terrified and ashamed and guilt-ridden, and Jason was angry and frightened and vengeful. He had seen Jason that way before. Plenty of times. One time he had felt that way, he had watched a man fall to his death and hadn’t done a single thing to save him, though he had plenty of opportunities.

Like Dick, he hadn’t interfered.

“What did she do to you?” Bruce said as everything began to make sense. Dick shuddered. He didn’t need to answer. Bruce closed his eyes as he realised what he should have known all those years ago when his eldest had messaged him and said in no uncertain terms that Tarantula wasn’t to be given reign in any city. Dick had never been so cold and worse, he had disappeared from Bruce’s radar for months afterward.

Not Batman’s radar, of course. Batman knew precisely where Nightwing was, what he was doing, and who he was with, but Bruce had, had no idea about Dick during that time.

Bruce marked another tally against his name in the times he’d let down his sons and moved closer to the chair, pulling Dick against him and wrapping his arms around his back. Dick moved a second later, latching onto him and pressed his face against Bruce’s stomach and hid from the world. Bruce moved one hand on his back and knotted the other in his hair and let him lean against him and Dick squeezed Bruce, digging his fingers into his shirt.

There would be time later for him to feel guilt and flagellate himself for his failures, but for now, he just held Dick and tried to keep him together. 

* * *

They spoke.

For a few hours.

Bruce showered and changed into sweats, then locked them in the office, and they talked in a way they hadn’t for a long, long time. With Dick talking from one end of the couch, and Bruce listening from the other.

Dick told him everything he had been hiding since Jason’s funeral. Some of it, since before.

Barbara. Roland. Catalina. His work. Why he left the Titans. Why he finally joined The League. The aftermath of Halloween.

Some of it came out in tears. Other parts in arguments.

Bruce tried not to argue back, but it was hard not to fall into old patterns, and sometimes they had to end the conversation.

Some of it was softly spoken, and Dick looked lost and lonely on his side of the couch, but Bruce did not dare cross the imaginary line they’d set up for themselves. Because if Bruce touched him now, he would fall apart again and then there would be no more words to say.

At some point, Dick was telling Bruce how he’d been homeless after his apartment blew up and he’d stayed on the run with Catalina in motels after she had assaulted him on the roof. “Why did you not come home?” Bruce asked, exasperated. “You told me you were staying at a friend’s. I didn’t worry because I didn’t think you were going to lie about that.”

 Dick was trying to find the words but struggling. “I think, I had a breakdown. I don’t really remember those days. It was a blur. But… but I thought I deserved it.”

Bruce had flinched at that, and Dick swallowed as his adopted father’s features grew with anger. “When did I teach you that you’re not worthy of happiness?”

Dick shivered, pulling closer in on himself. “B, it’s not that simple…”

“I thought when I took you in… when I took Jason and Tim in, I could make you better. Better than _me_. I didn’t want you boys walking around with the same darkness that’s haunted me my whole life,” Bruce said, in a tumble of words, and Dick frowned at him, trying to keep up. “But now I look at the three of you – Jason’s mind is fractured, and you’re hiding things from me, and Tim is a mess, and I wonder to myself if it was worth it. If I should have… have just organised for you to be taken in by a nice family or–”

“Don’t say that!” Dick snapped. Bruce looked up at him, in surprise, seeing Dick’s angry face. “I don’t regret any of this, Bruce. You didn’t screw up my life.”

Bruce shook his head. “I saw this… darkness in all of you,” he confessed. “And I wanted to take it from you. I thought if I gave you a mask to channel the darkness through–”

“This isn’t all your fault!” Dick argued, a flare of annoyance bursting through him. Bruce’s own emotions fell flat as Dick waved his hands about. “You are the poster child for taking on others burdens. You make yourself miserable all the time with other people’s failures, but the three things you succeeded in were us.

“Jason got to be a kid. He got to go to school and had people look after him. He’s forgotten heaps of that, yes, but he gets that we mean something to him. Tim was abandoned. He didn’t even realise families had _dinner_ together until you took him in. And CPS was going to send me to a boy’s home across state. You made sure I wasn’t left alone. You make sure I’m _never_ alone,” Dick emphasised, looking at Bruce desperately, trying to get the message across. “Yeah, okay, we’ve got some problems between us, but we all would have had problems anyway. Now we’ve got you as a Dad, and you’re someone who makes things better. You’re going to make this better, Bruce. I know you will.”

Bruce smiled at him. “I thought I was supposed to be helping you right now. Not the other way around.”

Dick smiled back at him, his shoulders sagging in relief as he realised he got through to him. “We’re partners. We’ve always got each other’s back.”

Bruce held out his hand for Dick to take. “Then promise me, you’ll talk to me. Promise that you’ll tell me when you’re going through something. Promise me that you’re going to work on being happy.”

Dick considered his hand and hummed. “Only if you promise never to pull off something as stupid as faking your death again. At least, not without telling me first.”

“I think you can only fake your death once,” Bruce said. Dick didn’t appreciate his humour and glared, but Bruce chuckled and nodded. “Deal.”

They shook on it, and Dick paused, not entirely sure of what to say next. “If we’re going to work on me being happy, there is something I need to do first, and I need your help to do it.”

Bruce nodded. “Anything.”

* * *

Dick waited in the living room as Bruce told Barbara, Alfred, and Selina what had happened.

All of it.

It was the coward’s way out. Getting your Dad to tell everyone why you were so upset. But Dick wanted them to know but wasn’t able to verbalise what he needed them to hear.

 _I was raped,_ he tried to say. _I was stuck in a relationship where someone took advantage of me and made me believe I wanted things I didn’t._

He couldn’t say it. But Bruce could do it for him.

Bruce came out of the kitchen first, rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He didn’t have to say it was done. Dick knew Bruce wouldn’t fail him. But he did wrap an arm around his front, quickly hugging him from behind, and though it took no more than a few seconds of time, Dick felt his warmth after he pulled away. “I’m going to go talk to Tim,” he said.

“I can come,” Dick offered, but Bruce shook his head.

“Not your responsibility,” Bruce said, echoing some of the sentiment from their talk. That Dick took on too much, and that he needed to let people help him. “I’ll try and bring him back. If not, maybe I can just get him to talk.”

“Worked for me.” Dick tilted his head back to look up at Bruce and, Bruce smiled before grabbing his jacket. “Um, Jay and I left Talia’s prototype Batmobile at the hotel.”

Bruce looked momentarily annoyed but shook his head. “Selina!” he called out. “Need to go pick up a car!”

Selina walked out of the dining room a minute later, pausing to look at Dick. He met her eye over the back of the couch, his breath catching in his throat. Because she knew. She knew, and she was watching him with knowing eyes.

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Just to remind you, Golden Boy, you can call me anytime.”

“You going to tell me the truth?” Dick couldn’t help but bite it out, but he regretted almost straight away. He didn’t get a chance to apologise before she replied.

“No,” she deadpanned. “But I lie to everyone. What I _don’t_ do for everyone, is track them to bars so I can carry their sorry grieving ass home, or cross international borders so maybe I convince their stubborn father to call them. Remember that.” She turned away and a small smile formed on his lips as she left with Bruce.

Dick sunk back into the chair and waited. Waited because he knew who would come next.

The door opened, and Barbara wheeled over to the couch and got in as close as she could, not looking at him. Dick watched her, but he also couldn’t look at her as she slipped off her chair, lifting herself towards the couch. He helped her, instinct kicking in, and eased her down, so they were side by side, but she moved closer and, with a frown, he helped her onto his lap. Finally, when she was as close as she could be, Barbara wrapped her arms around his neck and brought their heads together, the gentle tapping of their skulls knocking some sense into him of _who_ this was.

“Barb,” he murmured.

“Shut up, Goldie,” she whispered. “Let me speak.”

Dick nodded, his skin on fire as she sat _so close_. Closer than they had been in years. “If you’re hurt, you tell me.”

“I–”

“Shut up,” she repeated, just as softly.

Dick swallowed. They were so close that he could feel her heartbeat everywhere. All he could see was _her_. Enlarged and unfocused… His nostrils were filled with her scent – books and the iris, and vanilla body wash she had used. He still had an almost empty bottle at his Gotham safe house that he’d relocated to the cabinet under the sink. She was too close to focus on. He couldn’t draw any sense from her face, only _her_.

“I know we’re different. I know it’s weird. I know that we can’t just go back to _us_ , but we will always be something, Dick and I will always keep you safe.”

He swallowed and wrapped his hand around hers. He tilted his head down, pulling them apart and finally, he felt the oxygen in his lungs again. “I know that but–”

“No _buts_.” She grabbed his chin and dragged him up to see her face again, and he almost felt nauseous at how quick the world spun. “I will _always_ keep you safe. No matter what we are. I don’t ever want to hear that I’ve let you down again.”

Dick’s face softened because he could see her now. See her in entirety.

The tears in her green eyes, and the panic and anger there. Dick reached up and cupped her cheek. “You never let me down, Babs,” Dick swore to her.

She choked on a laugh, tears clogging her throat. “I guess that’s a lie we both tell ourselves at night.”

Dick wasn’t sure what else to say to that. He reached out and wrapped his arms around Barbara’s back and dragged her into him, hugging her tight against his chest. She clung back just as hard. 

* * *

Selina dropped Bruce off at the hotel, and he said he’d take the Ferrari the boys left there back. “I’ll wait up,” she said before he shut the door, but it was quiet, almost as if he wasn’t supposed to hear.

He went up to the penthouse suite and texted Tim to say he was on his way up. So when he found his youngest leaning against the doorway, waiting for him, he wasn’t surprised. “We going to talk?” Tim asked sullenly.

Brue nodded. “Maybe we won’t get interrupted.”

“Our odds aren’t promising.” But he stepped aside and opened the door wide enough for Bruce to get around him.

Tim was dressed to travel, in jeans and a t-shirt, and when Bruce entered the living room, he saw a packed bag waiting on the couch. “Are you leaving?”

Tim nodded, closing the door and walking in behind him. “Yeah. Got a late flight. Need to be at the airport in an hour.”

A time limit. That was all he needed.

Bruce rubbed his face and turned around to face Tim. “Please don’t leave. Not yet.”

Tim rolled his eyes. “There is nothing for me here.”

“Your family is here. We need you right now. _I_ need you right now.”

“For what?” Tim scoffed. “You got Jason back. Since I’ve known you all you wanted is Jason back, and now he’s here, and you don’t need me–”

“That’s not true, Tim,” Bruce interrupted him. “I may have let you in because Jason was gone, but I kept you because you were invaluable to me. As Robin, and as my son.”

There was quiet as Tim curled up in on himself and Bruce growled deep in his chest as he tried to find the words to get through to him. He wasn’t acting like himself, which made it harder still. _Start there._ “What did Harley do to you,” Bruce asked.

Tim flinched and shook his head, tilting his head down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tim–”

“Please,” he begged.

Bruce had rarely seen Tim look that desperate. He didn’t want to push. Bruce never pushed with the boy’s feelings unless it could get them killed and Bruce didn’t think it was at those levels, but he thought of Dick, hiding Catalina from him for years. “Sit down,” Bruce murmured. “I’ve got to tell you something.”

Tim hesitated, but he didn’t look petrified anymore. His anxiety hadn’t depleted, but curiosity crept in. He sat down with Bruce on the couch, side by side. “Today… with Jason. There was a reason why he went back for Catalina.”

“He’s psycho?” Tim guessed.

Bruce grimaced. “I need you to stop that for a minute. Just listen to what I’m saying.”

He shrivelled, like a scolded schoolboy and waited for Bruce to continue. He did. “I told Jason that Dick and Catalina were in a relationship because I saw how they acted together and later, knew they spent a week living together after Dick’s apartment was destroyed.

“I was wrong. Jason asked Dick what actually happened, and when Dick told him, he decided he had to kill Catalina. Kill her for hurting Dick.”

Tim didn’t say anything, respecting Bruce’s request to listen, but his eyebrow did slide up his head, his curiosity fully engaged. The words felt like bile in Bruce’s throat. He couldn’t believe he had to repeat it. He told the others at home on Dick’s request, but it had felt wrong. He felt like he was violating Dick’s right to privacy. “Catalina raped him,” Bruce said quietly, and Tim stiffened and paled.

“What?” he whispered.

Bruce didn’t repeat it. Couldn’t. “That’s why Dick was acting strange, and that was why Jason lost it and tried to kill her.”

Tim flinched and stared down at his hands. “I… I didn’t know.” His fingers tightened into fists. “I wouldn’t have tried to stop Jason if I’d known.”

Bruce tapped his fingers on his thigh. The fact was, once he’d realised why Jason had done what he’d done, the anger he’d felt towards Jason for going after Catalina fell away and was replaced with cold hard steel. He considered that, if he had known before maybe it would have been him breaking Catalina’s face.

“Jason’s not making rational decisions, and he’s not in the right mind. Whatever she did, he needs to learn to control that rage.” Bruce didn’t want to encourage the homicidal tendencies, even if he had them himself and even if it was just Tim. “But I trust him, and I know Dick does too.”

Tim considered what he said and closed his eyes. “How is Dick?”

“He’s overwhelmed, but we spoke, and I’m going to make sure he’s okay from now on.” _Now I just have to make sure you’re better,_ Bruce wanted to add, but he held his tongue and chose his words carefully. “You don’t have to tell me what happened. But, I want to know if you’re okay and, if you’re not, what can I do?”

Tim quivered and laughed. Just a small chuckle and he shook his head. “You left me alone, already,” he said, voice cracking.  “No one’s left me alone like that… not in a long while.”

Bruce cleared his throat, remembering how big Drake Manor was, and how small Tim had been when he’d shown up on his doorstep. “I’m sorry, Tim. I was trying to protect you.”

“I know that,” Tim snapped, irrational anger taking over his features. Bruce frowned. There was a space between them, but it felt like a chasm. “I know _you_ didn’t want to hurt me. But the part of you that was Joker…”

“He’s gone,” Bruce said but realised he couldn’t lie. Not to Tim. “Mostly. There are traces of the toxin left, but nothing substantial.”

“Maybe not now, but that night… He had to know. Had to know that Harley could get out of the cage you trapped her in,” Tim murmured. Bruce flinched, watching the tears spill down Tim’s cheeks. He didn’t say anything, because he could see he was searching for words, but then he clamped his jaw shut and the tears stopped.

He pushed his hair back off his face, slicking it back again and shuddered. “So how’d you do it?” he asked, voice steady again. “Really. How’d you stop the Joker from taking over? It had to be more than a well-guarded mind.”

Bruce sighed, annoyed that he’d been so close. “Fear gas.”

Tim’s jaw clicked together. “Fear gas?”

“I told you last night. The Joker had to face his biggest fear, and the fright weakened him. But then again, for all I know something in the fear toxin could combat the Joker toxin and everything I experienced was a hallucination.” Bruce had been thinking about it a lot when he wasn’t worried about Jason. But with limited equipment – and being completely unaware of Talia’s Batcave – he’d been unable to do anything about it. “But the fact remains, he can’t control me anymore.”

Tim hummed. “That easy, huh? A little fear toxin beats Joker toxin. Scarecrow trumps Joker. But I guess he doesn’t though because at least Joker died. Scarecrow is just a little crazier.”

“Tim,” Bruce said, but he was cut off.

“You left me alone in a cell,” Tim said, face twisted around embitterment. “With my greatest fears. Being alone. Being forgotten…” He tilted his head down so Bruce couldn’t see his eyes. “Harley. She swapped the oxygen tanks out for fear gas.”

Bruce flinched, as he pictured it.

The glass prison he’d put him in was airtight, with its own source of oxygen. He thought how the fear gas in small doses made people panic and see their greatest fears. If Tim had only been able to breathe in the fear gas, it could have turned him permanently mad. It explained the erratic behaviour and paranoia too. “I didn’t know,” Bruce said. “I didn’t think Harley could get out.”

Tim huffed, still not looking up. “The Joker locked me away and threw away the key. Then Harley came to finish the job.”

Bruce shook his head. “That’s not what happened, Tim. It was me, and I was trying to protect you. I didn’t know she was going to come.”

“You locked me up,” Tim whispered. “With my greatest fears.”

“I didn’t know.”

“I thought you’d forgotten about me.

Bruce growled and finally couldn’t stand the distance. He slid over the couch, so he was sitting next to him. “I could never forget about you.”

“You’re here, on a beach with Jason. You never even called to check on me.”

Bruce wrapped his arm around Tim’s back. “I thought about you and Dick every day,” Bruce murmured. “I read the papers, checked the news and had Alfred sending me information about you. I could never forget you, Tim. You, Dick, Jason…” Bruce swallowed thickly. “You boys are my family.”

Still, face buried, Tim’s voice came out in a whisper. “We’re family?”

“Always, Timbers.” He frowned and tightened his grip on Tim. “I’m sorry I left you. I didn’t mean to abandon you. I was going to contact you as soon as I got here but…”

“But Jason,” he said. His voice didn’t darken. It didn’t harden. There was no venom. He was just stating the facts.

Bruce considered it progress. “He wasn’t working with Harley,” Bruce said, figuring that was the easiest place to start. “He has no love for her. She tortured him for a long time. In his mind, she’s almost as bad as Joker.”

“Almost?”

“Yes. Joker and Harley did some… terrible things to him. Things he won’t forgive them for it.”

“I don’t know if I believe that,” Tim said.

“Come home with me,” Bruce asked. “We can talk more. With Dick, and Barbara… We can sort something out for all of us.”

Tim stayed rigid, not looking up for a long while, and Bruce waited. He wasn’t giving up on him, or the idea he could have all his family again, and Bruce decided he could be patient for that.

He considered telling Tim just that, but before he could, Tim’s whole body shivered, and he collapsed, colliding with Bruce’s chest and wrapping his arms around him. Bruce was surprised by the way Tim clung to him but didn’t push him away. Instead, he dragged Tim in close, so maybe he could feel safe again.

* * *

When Jason woke up, he was groggy. His head was heavy, and he recognised the bitter taste in his mouth that came from being sedated.

Then, piece by piece, the day slowly came back to him.

Dick, Slade, the kidnapping, Tarantula…

He sat up, wanting to find Dick and needing to see if he was okay, and clambered out of bed, stumbling for a moment. Jason caught himself on the post at the end of the bed, head spinning.

He’d been on the end of one of Bruce’s sedatives before. Sometimes after fear gas, other times because of something Poison Ivy drugged him with. The waking up was always bad, and the painkiller had a bad hangover. Bruce always made them lie in bed and drink a milkshake before they could do anything. For the first time, he realised why. He glanced at the clock on the bedside. It was close to three in the morning. He pressed his head against the post and lifted himself up, straightening his spine and got out of the room.

He went down the hall, looking for the room they put Dick in. He was there in the first room along, so thankfully Jason didn’t have to go far in his hungover state. But he froze in the doorway when he realised that Dick wasn’t alone.

He had Barbara in his arms, her head tucked under his chin and her arms around his back and in his hair. Behind her was Tim. He was curved around her back, but his arm was supporting both Dick and Barbara’s heads, his other arm reaching across her hips and his hands splayed out on Dick’s waist.

 Jason swallowed and almost stepped out again. _I don’t belong here,_ he thought to himself, but before he could step away, Tim’s head lifted from the pillow, the youngest of them apparently not asleep. He stared at Jason with a frown, but then looked at Dick, his face softening. “There’s room on the other side,” Tim whispered, careful not to wake the others.

It occurred to Jason those were the first words Tim ever said to him as Tim and Jason. He was also highly aware that Dick had, at some point, woken up. It was the slight shift in his breathing pattern that gave it away. Tim most likely noticed too, but no one said a thing as Jason walked towards the bed and lifted the covers only just high enough so he could slip into the bed, curling behind Dick.

He loosely wrapped his arm over both Dick and Barbara, and Tim copied the motion, careful not to touch Jason.

Jason was just as careful not to touch Tim.

He was about to close his eyes when Dick moved his arm around Jason’s and grabbed Tim’s hand and managed to interlock the three of them together. Jason didn’t move, letting Dick have his moment of peace, and pressed his face into the elder’s back, closing his eyes. “Sleep, Dickie,” Jason murmured. “We all just need some sleep.”

And four of them did.

* * *

The night had been long.

Longer and more tiring than the day.

Bruce laid in bed, staring at the ceiling with worry in the pit of his stomach.

Before he’d adopted Dick, Bruce had worried continuously.

About Gotham.

About people finding out who he was.

About failing the city.

But then he took in a small child, and he learned what worry really was.

Because suddenly he was up at five in the morning – quite late considering he was usually asleep by four – and googling how much cereal could kill a child.

Some of the worry Alfred helped him with. “Other than his habit of devouring a whole box of cereal every morning, Master Richard’s diet is well balanced.”

Clark thought it was strange how Bruce took Dick out every night to fight vigilantes, but constantly lectured him about his eating habits as if that was what was going to kill him. But Bruce worried about Dick, and later Jason and Tim out on the field as much as he worried about whether they were going to compromise their immune system from a lack of vitamin D. 

(Night time vigilantism didn’t always allow for maximum daylight sun exposure, so Bruce made them take vitamins because they were all so pale)

But none of that worry compared to what he felt for his boys now.

Tim was hurt, while Jason was absolutely terrified of himself, and Dick hadn’t felt like he could go to Bruce when he was at his absolute worse.

In fact, he’d gone out of his way to hide his worst from Bruce.

 _I am not good at this taking care of kids thing,_ he thought.

Bruce was worried about Jason trying to leave again too. He couldn’t lock Jason up in the house, and if he really truly wanted to go – with Dick, or by himself – Bruce would be powerless to stop him. If he did, Jason wouldn’t trust him. If he didn’t, he could lose Jason forever. It was an impossible choice.

He closed his eyes and pressed his hands into the sockets, trying to release some of that stress when a knock at his door made him sit up.

The footsteps had been silent, which only ruled out Barbara, and he got up and walked over, barefoot and shirtless.

He opened the door, and Selina stood there in boy shorts and a t-shirt, holding a bottle of wine and two glasses. He looked her up and down and couldn’t help but smile. It was her go-to sleepwear since they were fifteen and the number of mornings he’d woken up wishing he could be her shirt… “Are you overwhelmed by all the familial drama?” he asked, trying to distract himself.

“Ugh,” Selina exaggerated a roll of her eyes. “You don’t know how close I was to taking the flight Jason booked and getting out of here yesterday.”

“I’m glad you didn’t,” Bruce replied, stepping out of the doorway.

Selina smiled. “Me too.”

The master bedroom that had been intended for Bruce and Talia had a lounge and coffee table facing the private balcony that overlooked the ocean. Selina let herself in and sat on one of the couch and popped open the bottle, pouring the drinks before Bruce could even sit on the other end. “I figured it’s been a rough day.”

“It’s been a rough year,” Bruce murmured, taking the glass she offered out to him.

Selina shook her head. “I don’t think so.” Bruce raised his eyebrow, waiting for her to explain. “Your greatest enemy is dead and can’t hurt anyone ever again. Your biggest burden, being Batman, has been lifted and you have enough billions to do whatever the hell you want for the rest of your retirement. And your son – the one that broke you when you lost him – is back under your roof. Not to mention, your youngest is getting married, your eldest is talking to you, and I am still gracing you with my presence, despite how terrible you are to me.” She smiled at the last part, and Bruce smiled into his glass.

“I suppose I could see it like that,” he said lightly.

“You should. Bruce.” Selina slid across the couch, sitting right next to him and rested her hand on his knee. “I know it’s hard to see because Dick lied, Tim is mad at everyone, Jason isn’t coping right now, and you’re all hurting, but you have your whole family back. It can only get better from here. Right?”

Bruce just thought that now, there were a million more things that could go wrong. Maybe that it was it. He was always so consumed with worry about everything that could go wrong that he couldn’t see the small things that were right. Maybe Selina was right, and he should be happy. Happy that he was free of Batman, happy that he had his sons and happy that no matter how hard things were now, they were together again.

Selina’s hand was rubbing his knee, and he focused in on it and her slim, elegant fingers. She never had calloused or rough skin from climbing, claiming that rough skin made picking pockets more difficult. Bruce had rough skin, and it had never made a difference, but he knew Selina was particular. She had her ways.

He found his hand, snaking into hers and collecting it. He twined her small fingers between his own and laid his digits across the back of her palm. It looked so dainty nestled in his, and he felt like he could break her delicate wrist with one wrong move. _Maybe that’s how Clark feels, all the time,_ he mused, but as he turned his head to look at Selina, all other thoughts fell away.

She was looking at him, with the same look she gave him at fifteen when she climbed into his bed silently and told him she wanted to try to make things work. “Bruce.” She barely breathed his name when he leaned his head forward and captured her lips with his.

Selina was his first love. The girl, and then the woman, who had stood with him through the darkest corners of his life. Even when they were fighting and at their worst, they were support structures for the each other. There were just parts of him that she owned. Parts of him that were broken, and empty, and selfish. Parts of him that _took_ and _needed_ and couldn’t sleep through the night. She carried those parts of him when the burdens became too much, and in return, he pulled weights from her that tried to drag her under.

 When Jason was taken. When her estranged father returned.

There was never ever any going back for them. Only pushing forward in whatever way they knew how and struggling and surviving how they saw fit.

They put down their wines as Bruce pulled her up onto his lap and she intertwined her body with his like he had done with their hands, and maybe he could break her, but she could break him in the same ways, and they always put each other back together.

He was just so grateful that she was there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm trying to grow a bit of a social media following so that I can use it in a portfolio one day. I'm terrible at posting, and posting consistently, but I am trying.
> 
> http://ithoughtslashmeanthorror.tumblr.com/
> 
> Or follow me on twitter to hear how I'm feeling about my telco, or whatever latest TV show I'm watching on @biaking93 on twitter. :)
> 
> As always, tell me what you think.


	14. Confessions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry guys.
> 
> I tripped and smashed my computer screen, and normally I email my work to myself, but I hadn't done it yet. I was supposed to pick up the laptop last night but got lazy. So now I'm updating in my lunch break again because I promised.
> 
> I deleted the chapter where I told you guys I dropped my laptop, but thank you antaresjesi, BatSnacks24, rpglady76 (and I just realised your name is rpg lady and not rp glady. I am sorry for mispronouncing it in my head constantly) and Chaseha_Wing for your comments... :)
> 
> <3

Anxiety bubbled in Barbara like a witches brew, overflowing in her veins.

She could still feel Dick’s warm lips on her mouth, and the stretch of his hand holding the curve of her spine. She hated to admit it, but it felt right.

Barbara had felt things for other guys. For Luke.

But it couldn’t compare to Dick Grayson.

Because Dick Grayson was a comically large magnet, and Barbara was made from tiny iron filings, trying to burst through walls to get to him.

He had kissed her.

But he was right.

Barbara kissed him back.

She would _always_ kiss him back.

The elevator doors dinged, delivering her to the Penthouse floor just as her phone beeped out the ringtone one she attached to Alfred.

_Talia al Ghul is nearby. Bruce is following her. Be on alert._

Barbara looked down the hall, just as a flash of red silk flurried through the door to Room 357. Before she could be seen, Barbara slipped back down the hallway, hiding in the shadows behind a marble table holding shrubbery. She waited for the door to click and, after a minute, crept over and pressed her ear to the wood.

The voices were muffled through the dense material, but she could make out at least three. _Bruce, Jason, Talia…_

The hairs on her arms hair stuck on end at the smooth feminine tone that garbled through the dense wood.

Barbara liked most of Bruce’s girlfriends. Even the ones he took out for show. Even _Andrea_  - and she had tried to kill him.

But Talia al Ghul made Barbara violent.

The Assassin warmed for Bruce, but she was an Arctic wind to everyone else.

Barbara wanted to know what she was doing there, or at the very least, be nearby to assist. After her last visit where she had sworn never to cast a shadow in Gotham again, her visit couldn’t foreshadow anything good.

Barbara’s navy dress had a slit running up one leg, sitting just high enough to show off some thigh, but not high enough to see the utility holster of equipment she carried everywhere she went.

From inside, she took out her new prototype decoder and went to the next room over, pressing the box against the swipe entry. It took a second, but the decoder worked her magic and the door opened with a beep and a click. She deep a sweep of the room to make sure no one was there, then went out to the balcony.

The hotel balconies were divided from one another by grey gothic stones, the size of small children. Each one was a self-contained pocket, but she had scaled the Royal Hotel enough times that she knew how to get around the outside.

She took off the holster from her thigh, and it unwrapped three times, so the length of the strap was long enough to belt around her waist. From the pocket, she withdrew a pair of climbing gloves and took out a palm-sized device with a length of steel cable trapped inside. While she attached the wire to her belt, she clicked the heel of her shoes, and the stilettos came off and turned into flats. She collected the heels from the ground and slid them into a pocket on her belt, both armed with a sedative she’d installed for just such occasions.

There was no pause for thought, her actions well-practised automations, drilled into her during years of training. One minute she was Barbara Gordon, and with a switch she was Batgirl, and her mission was to get to the next balcony.

The cold wind blew through her skirts as she climbed up onto the balcony ledge, using the wall to support herself. She pointed the cable box to the top of the building and pressed a small black button on the top, and the steel shot up to the rooftop, embedding itself into the cement, and grasping on. Barbara tested the strength with a quick tug then looked across the gap to the other balcony.

The length was the height of four men.

Easy.

She held onto the steel with her left hand and jumped off the edge of the balcony, flying across the expanse. Her skirt and hair billowed out behind her, her right hand grazing the side of the building, stretched out to guide her arch. The breeze bit at her skin, as she considered maybe she should have called Dick. Despite their elevator talk, his family came first, and a threat from Talia was serious.

But that thought ended when she lifted her legs to catch the edge of the balcony. She used her outstretched hand to balance herself on the side of the wall and landed, seated perfectly, legs folded over one another. Despite herself, Barbara couldn’t stop the grin spreading across her cheeks. _Got to use that with an audience one day,_ she thought, sliding off the ledge, and unbuckling her holster.

She tiptoed to the door closest and looked through the glass.

There was a sleeping figure and, judging by the bright red socks that peeked out from under the covers, it was Jason. The lights were turned off, and everything was neatly tidied. There was no reason to suspect he’d been knocked out, but he was definitely no good in a fight.

She went to the next balcony.

A thin gauze curtain was drawn over the room, good enough to blur the insides, but not enough to disguise them altogether.

Barbara frowned.

Bruce had his back to her and Talia was upon him, one hand on his cheek and the other out of sight. Though she couldn’t see their faces, Barbara knew what they were doing. “Bruce,” she murmured quietly. “Stop kissing assassins.”

He told Barbara they were over. “Nothing is going to happen between us again.” Those were his exact words.

Betrayal hit her hard.

Selina was one thing. As much bad as she committed, she wasn’t evil. Even though Barbara was pissed at the way she ignored Jason since the big break up, she liked Selina for Bruce. She cared and she knew where the line was.

Talia had no line.

“Well, clearly you don’t need my help,” she muttered and went back over to the other door. She decided to get Jason out of there, at least so he wouldn’t be tortured with the sound of his adopted-father having sex with the world’s deadliest assassin’s daughter. At the very least, Barbara could spare him that.

She opened the door as quietly as possible and tiptoed to the bed.

Jason sat up quickly when she nudged him, and Barbara covered his mouth to stop him from yelling. Their eyes met, and Barbara pressed her free hand to her lips to calm his wild eyes. He had a scratched on his forehead, and she glared at it, cursing Dick, then moved her hand from Jason’s mouth. “Come on,” she whispered, taking his hand.

She realised Jason was drunk when he braced himself against the wall and tried shoving his foot into his shoe, but ended up stomping the ground instead. It happened three times, before she took over. “Jay,” she hissed, creeping up on him. She knelt and grabbed his foot, guiding it into his shoe. She went to do the same with the other foot, but he pushed her hands away.

“I can do it,” he grumbled and demonstrated his skills. “See?”

He presented her his foot, clad in a leather shoe and the ankle squashed beneath his heel.

Barbara fixed the back for him, threw him his jacket, then dragged him out the door. “What’s going on?” he asked as they got outside. His face was scrunched up, like a tired child. He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the look, but it only served to make him look younger.

“Bruce is with Talia in the other room. I decided you didn’t need to be near the sex noises.”

Jason scoffed. “Well _now_ who should be grounded?”

“What?” Barbara asked.

“Bruce should be grounded. That’s who,” he huffed under his breath.

Barbara frowned at him. “Okay, you’re going to hold onto me.”

Jason didn’t quite understand, but Barbara took out an extra hook from her belt and strapped Jason up, so they were connected by the hip. “I don’t know what’s going on,” he admitted.

“You don’t need to,” she replied, and she hooked herself back up to the cable, still hanging down from the side of the building. The cable was designed to hold six hundred pounds, and she didn’t think her and Jason together would tip the scales. She jumped up onto the ledge again, and Jason followed her, wavering the whole time.

“Is this a good time to tell you I’m drunk?”

“No. Really? I couldn’t tell,” she drawled.

“I am an excellent actor,” he agreed.

Barbara rolled her eyes and pulled him in close. “Hold on, Booze Wonder.”

Jason did, wrapping his arms around her back and Barbara grabbed the cable again, clicking the box, so it dragged them up to the roof.

It pulled them up quickly, designed for maximum speed and efficiency.

Too quick, and too efficient.

As Barbara dragged them both up onto the roof, Jason stumbled and turned back, hanging over the edge so he could vomit down the side of the building. She was glad they were both still attached to the wire because she wasn’t so worried about him falling over. But she was grossed out.

Very grossed out.

“I’m never drinking again,” he groaned, tipping back and falling on the roof, arms spread out. Barbara disconnected herself so she wouldn’t be trapped beside him. “Never, ever, ever…”

“I think you said the same thing at Roy’s birthday,” Barbara said, standing over him.

“I made mistakes. Many, many mistakes,” he groaned.

“Like getting into a fight with Dick?” she asked.

“Fucking Dick,” he grumbled. “Telling everyone it was my fault.”

Barbara huffed. She wasn’t going to get far with him in such a state. “Come on, Jason. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had a crappy night, and I just want to get home. Maybe get in a patrol and hit something.”

She started walking to the rooftop exit and heard Jason collecting himself from the ground, with a slow shuffle. “You’ve had a crap night? I had my heart broken… Again!”

Barbara rolled her eyes and tried to open the door. Her heart plummeted when it got stuck. She tried jiggling it unsuccessfully. “Want to play that game, Jason? I’m hiding my brother’s kleptomania from my father, my boyfriend might break up with me, my ex tricked me into kissing him, and _now_ I’m stuck on a rooftop with my drunk partner and the only way out is to jump off the building again.” She spun around, and Jason was slumped against a large brick stack, with smoke billowing out of the top of it. She huffed and started towards the edge. “I'll be back.”

Jason raised his eyebrow. “No lockpicking stuff in that util - _his_ – utility belt?”

She glared at him. The fact he could still look so egotistical while being so drunk. “I lost a set last night and put the spare from this belt in my main belt. I didn’t think I’d be stuck out on a rooftop this soon.”

His face softened, and he pushed himself off the stacks, stumbling a little. “I like it out here,” he said, and he walked over to the edge of the building. Barbara’s heart lurched. He wasn’t sober enough to be considered stable. Barbara followed him but froze when he grabbed the edge of the building and javelined over. “Jason!” Barbara screamed.

She ran across the rest of the roof, stomach colliding with the edge and expected to see Jason, screaming and splattering to death.

But there he was standing on a smaller ledge just below, surrounded by gargoyles and statues of ancient Gods. He wavered, dangerously close to the edge, but sat down quickly enough, dangling his legs over the edge and with a large enough gap behind him that it would be hard for him to slip. “Jason!” she screamed, annoyed. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Come down. I’ll show you- _hic_ – something.” Jason looked up at her, looking completely unbothered by it all. He grabbed patted the ground next to him and grinned up at her.

Barbara growled but had no choice but to follow him. She jumped down and landed beside him, then sat down and glared. “I thought you tried killing yourself.”

Jason smirked. “Would you have missed me?”

She punched him in the shoulder. Hard. “You’re an idiot if you think I wouldn’t, and–” She punched him again. “You’re a _bigger_ idiot if you scared me on purpose.”

Jason flinched, rubbing his shoulder, but shrugged her off.

She wrapped her arms around her shoulders, shivering. Like every other night in Gotham, it was cold, and her dress, while eye-catching, wasn’t practical for the weather.

Jason noticed the goose bumps on her flesh. He took off his jacket and held it out for her. “You’re wearing almost nothing.”

“I was looking for you,” she said, taking his jacket gratefully. She slid it on over her arms. “So this is all your fault.”

It was Jason’s turn to roll his eyes. “I was falling asleep. I would have been fine.”

It was true.

Barbara didn’t have to drag him out of bed and onto the roof. She had wanted to. Because between James, Luke, and Dick, all she wanted to do was sit with someone who wasn’t going to yell at her.

His shirt was thin, so she edged closer to him and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, to keep them both warm. “What were you going to show me?” she asked quietly. Her voice almost got eaten up by the wind, but he heard her.

Jason sat back, leaning on one hand and pointed with the other. “Over there somewhere, I was born… Like on a rooftop.” He then pointed to the completely opposite side of the landscape and hiccupping again, as his pointed finger landed over the top of Wayne Manor. “That’s where I live now. I don’t know… I like to come here sometimes to think. See how far I’ve come.” His voice became distant, as he leant back on both arms, face turning into a frown. “But then again, from up here, it all looks like the length of my hand.”

“What?” Barbara asked, not quite understanding.

Jason held his hand up again, squinting and stretched his fingers out like he was measuring something. Between his eyes, he could probably see Wayne Manor located under his thumb, and Crime Alley beneath his forefinger. “Less than my hand.”

Barbara softened. “You’ve come a lot further than that, Jason, and you know it. You’re just looking down on yourself. Literally.”

Jason shrugged. “Everyone looks down on me. Why shouldn’t I?”

“Tell me what happened tonight,” Barbara said, taking his hand from where it was outstretched, and holding it in her lap.

The wind sent an icy blast through the city. Jason winced and shuffled closer to Barbara. He tipped his head down, pressing his cheek to her shoulder with a childish huff. “I don’t want to talk about it,” he muttered. The tickle of his eyelashes on her skin made her smile, and she played with his hair.

“Okay, then,” she murmured, more than content to remain quiet.

They watched the city together, listening to the sirens and calls. Some crimes they couldn’t stop. They tried, but even heroes needed a night off, and the police weren’t perfect, but some were trying. Barbara knew her Dad at least was trying, and trying harder still to get all the bad cops out of the GCPD.

“I love you, Barbara Gordon,” Jason whispered.

Barbara smiled and rubbed Jason’s hair. “I love you too.”

Jason shook his head, pulling away from her. “No, you don’t understand. I _love_ you. In this way, I don’t love anyone else. Unconditionally, heart bursting from my chest, love.”

He fixed her with this look that made Barbara catch her breath, and for a second he didn’t look like the angry sixteen-year-old boy, who could be insecure about himself she’d grown up with, but the man Bruce was trying to shape him into. A strong, determined man, who was one day going to great things. She had to remind herself that he was drunk, which was probably why he was revealing so much.

She swallowed and shuffled back enough so she could bend her head down and hide her blush. “Jay-”

“No, listen.” He grabbed her hands and held them between them, the hiccuped loudly, reminding Barbara that he was really drunk. “I don’t really know what it is. If it’s romantic, or family… I don’t have much of a reference, so I’m not good at knowing the difference. But I do know I don’t want you to feel this way about me because it’s intense and dangerous. I know you won’t. I’m just a bratty brother to you, but that’s okay. I want it to be like this forever. I want us to be friends like this forever. I’m not telling you this to ask something more from you.

“I just had to say it because I need you to know, you mean the world to me.” Barbara felt tears creeping into her eyes, and she squeezed Jason’s hands back. “You are the only person who doesn’t expect me to be perfect. Who doesn’t ask me to change, only to do better and I need you to know how much that means to me. That you don’t care that I’m a smack baby from Crime Alley.”

“You’re not just a smack baby from Crime Alley, Jason,” Barbara whispered.

He laughed, darkly. “Yeah, I am. And that’s all those assholes in there will ever see.”

“Jason-“

“No, you’re not listening.” Jason tugged on her hands. “One day, Barbie, I’m gonna find a girl and you and Dick are gonna have a shit-ton of babies, and I want that for you. I want that for me because seeing you happy makes me happy. But I need you to know, right now how much everything you do means to me, because... Bruce adopted me because he thought I was smart and he has to care about me because it’s court ordered. Alfred gets paid to be there, and Dick and I share a house sometimes, so it’s better that we get along, but you... you have no reason to like me. Hell, you could have struck out on your own years ago, but you stayed with me, a kid who owes you nothing. You did it without thinking, but it’s something I think about every fucking day. So thank you.”

Barbara stared at him, completely unsure of what to say, then leant forward across the short distance and pressed her lips to Jason’s cheek. He blushed as she moved away, hand cupped his cheek. “Bruce, Alfred, and Dick love you, for exactly who you are,” Barbara whispered. “Smack baby from Crime Alley and all. So do I. I will always love you, Jason Peter Todd.”

Jason smiled, clearly content with his drunken confession. He moved back to Barbara’s side, the way they were positioned before, only with his hand in hers, gripping her fingers. “Dick’s a dick for not making a move on you,” Jason whispered.

“I’m with Luke,” Barbara replied, just as gently but with her lips burning from the memory of Dick’s mouth on hers, the heat of his body against hers.

"You’re a dick too for not letting him in."

Barbara chuckled and pressed her nose against Jason’s head. “Maybe I am,” she sighed. She looked up at the moon, reminding herself that she kissed Dick back. Remembered how good he made her feel. “Maybe, I am.”

“You are. That’s why you’re perfect for each other.”

“Jason! Barbara! What are you doing?”

They both jumped, and Barbara tightened her arm around the drunk Jason as they both looked up at the rooftop ledge where Bruce was stood, fists on his hips, glaring down at them.

“Busted,” Jason sang. Barbara rolled her eyes at him and looked up at a really pissed off Bruce Wayne.

_Because that’s all I needed tonight._

* * *

Despite being drugged and exhausted, Jason still managed to wake up before Dick, Barbara, or Tim. For a minute, he’d been confused as his brain clambered to remind itself of his surroundings, but when he saw the others, his stomach did the same guilty twist it had the first time he’d laid eyes on Barbara.

His nerves ramped up, and the need for a cigarette overwhelmed him. Jason got up, careful not to wake them, and crept out of the room using all the light-footed Batman moves he’d been trained to use to get in and out of criminal lairs.

He went to his bedroom, and collected his cigarettes and a jumper, and also took his wallet out of habit. The sedative was out of his system, but his head still felt foggy, and he was considering making himself a coffee as he stepped out into the hallway, but what he saw made him freeze.

Selina. Coming down the stairs. Wearing too small shorts and a white shirt that was too masculine and large to be hers.

She froze when she saw him, and they both stared at each other, not sure what to say. “You’re not leaving again, are you?” Selina asked, eyeing his jumper and smokes no doubt.

Jason showed his cigarette pack. “Just smoking.”

“Good,” she said.

“And you?” he prompted.

Selina drew herself up to her full height and glared at him. “Well does it look like I’m leaving?”

“It looks like you’re–”

Her hand darted out and she grabbed him by his cheeks, cutting off his words. “Finish that sentence, kid. I dare you.”

Through his puffer fish lips, Jason replied, “I’d much rather not.”

Selina eyed him warily, waiting for him to change his mind but must have decided he was safe. “Good thinking.” She let go of his mouth and continued to slink back to her room. When she was at the door, she turned to look at him. “I swear to God, Jason, if you make me have to track you down for a third time in three days, I will chain you to your bed.”

Jason took a step back, towards the stairs. “I mean, I’m flattered, but whatever games that you and Bruce are into–” He cut himself off and flew down the stairs just as she twisted into her room to find something to attack with a laugh. From the bottom of the stairs, he caught a glimpse of Selina’s whip, but he was too far for it to catch him.

The interaction, though awkward, left him feeling lighter. He couldn’t help but smirk as he thought of all the innuendo he could slip into the conversation that would annoy both Bruce and Selina. It would annoy Dick too, ever the Boy Scout and the captain of Team Wonder Woman, which was only a bonus. He bounced into the kitchen, giddy at the idea.

It was a little surprising to find Alfred in the kitchen, for a few reasons. One, he still wasn’t used to having anyone other than Bruce around. He’d gotten used to the way they both shuffled around each other, barely speaking for days until Bruce decided to bring up something serious. It was becoming his new normal, and he kind of missed the peace of it.

But the other reason was it was so foreign to see Alfred in a kitchen that wasn’t Wayne Manor. That was Alfred’s domain. The place where cookies and advice were doled out in heart-aching quantities.

“Good morning, Master Jason,” Alfred said.

“Morning, Al,” Jason replied, walking towards the coffee pot. One bonus of Alfred’s arrival was that it had already been made.

“Please tell me you’re not going to go outside and smoke.”

Jason shrugged, pouring himself a mug. “I won’t tell you then.”

Alfred huffed. “Well at least eat first. The last proper meal you had was the sandwich I made you two nights ago.”

Jason’s stomach growled, agreeing with Alfred’s assessment. He was still twitching for a smoke, but the need for food was stronger, so he took his coffee and pocketed his cigarettes, sitting at the kitchen island. “Only because it’s you,” he said.

Alfred’s features softened, and he stared at Jason with the longing look Bruce had kept shooting at him the first few weeks they’d been in Mazatlán. Jason had been too out of it to appreciate it - and maybe he would never have really because it was Bruce - but now it made him flush, embarrassed that the old man could look at him with so much fondness. “It is good to have you with us again, Master Jason.”

Guilt ate at Jason, and he shrugged his shoulders. “Don’t think I deserve that Al.”

“I’m not here to cast judgment, my boy,” Alfred said, going about preparing breakfast. He’d been making something before Jason got in and now he could see the eggs, and open packets of bacon.

“But it’s not fair you’re here,” Jason murmured. “If I’d not done what I did, you’d be at home, in Wayne Manor. You’d be legally alive. I don’t deserve you being nice to me, Al. Not when I ruined your life.”

Alfred hummed. “Ruined? I think not, Master Jason. I’ve spent more time with my daughter in the last three months that I have in her whole life. It’s been rather nice, in fact, to have a break from it all. Regardless, that part of the evening, believe it or not, had little to do with you and everything to do with Bruce. In respects to what you deserve…”

He’d put eggs and bacon in the frypan, and paused slicing up the roll. Bacon and egg rolls had been what Alfred made Jason in the mornings when he was rushing off somewhere. ‘Something filling but travel worthy,’ he’d say, as Jason grabbed the roll and ran off, normally to school.

“I’ve known men, better than you, who have been through less and done worse in the name of revenge. I cannot say I am not disappointed. I thought, I of all people, raised you well enough that you should have known you could come to me. Instead, you clad yourself in armour, surrounded yourself with an army, harmed innocent and guilty alike, and still managed to leave that night just as wounded as the rest of us. I might even argue, worse. I don’t quite know what that deserves, Jason, but if you think for one second that I’m going to be the one to deliver punishment, you’d be mistaken.”

He resumed cutting the bread and Jason stared at the former-butler a little gobsmacked. “Bruce should really give you more paid days off, Alfie,” Jason murmured, sipping his coffee.

Alfred chuckled. “The whole of Gotham would have collapsed if he had.”

Jason chuckled too and sat there quietly, as Alfred finished up the egg and bacon roll. He slid a plate over to Jason, and he ate it gratefully, muttering his thanks between bites. “Don’t eat too quickly. I’m still making breakfast for everyone, but we most likely have an hour or two before they all wake up.”

Jason cleared his throat of bread crumbs so he could speak. “Selina is awake.”

“She is?” Alfred said, surprise colouring his ordinarily dry tone.

“Yeah. Caught her sneaking into her room.”

It took a moment, but once Alfred realised what Jason was saying her rolled his eyes. “Tattling is very childish, Master Jason.”

“It’s not tattling. It’s keeping everyone in the loop.” But Jason was grinning. The anxiety that fuelled his need for a cigarette died a little, but not enough to hold it back entirely. Even so, he sat with Alfred a little longer, watching him prepare breakfast for everyone else in companionable silence.

Alfred must have been thinking about something because his shoulders squared up and he grew tense. Jason paused, not quite sure what changed Alfred’s mood, but the old butler turned his back on Jason to light up the gas stove.  
“About Master Dick,” he said, his voice deliberately slow and tone even. The serious downturn of conversation made the hairs on the back of Jason’s neck stand up. “Bruce explained what that woman did to Dick. He said that upon learning of it, you lost what little control you have over your anger, and decided it was best to kill her.”

Jason swallowed the bite of his roll he had and put down the rest, suddenly unable to eat.

His brain went back to that moment.

The world had been exploding around him in a wash of colour, but all Jason was able to see in his rage amplified tunnel vision was Catalina’s face. He could hear his own grunted breaths and every slap from the skin of his fist against the skin of her face, but everything else was drowned out by the waterfall rush of blood in his ears. Red splattered between her cheek and his fist with every crash. There was so much of it, his knuckles slipped over her cheek when it became too wet, and it splashed like swollen rain puddles assaulted by children in gumboots.

It was violent, and it was messy, and it was everything Robin and Batman were not.

But Jason would do it all over again if he could.

“I am disappointed in you for what you did the night of the Siege,” Alfred continued. “But for the pain Tarantula caused Richard, I will not lose a moment’s worth of sleep over the state you left her in.” Alfred turned away from the stove, looking Jason right in the eye. “In fact, I commend you. I would have just shot her in the head the moment I laid eyes on her.”

It was always strange to Jason that Alfred had never had a problem with killing. That his code, was something different to that of Bruce, but he had been the one to instil the No Kill code into him. He was overwhelmed again, this time with a sense of relief. With no words to reply, Jason took the last few bites of his roll and pushed the plate away. “Thanks, Alfie,” he murmured.

He stood up slowly and pulled out his cigarettes again, and poured a second cup of coffee. “I’m gonna be down by the water,” he said. “But just tell them I want to be alone. I’m trying to keep a low profile. I just need to think a bit.”

Alfred nodded. “I will tell the others not to disturb you. Not sure how much they’ll listen, but I will forewarn them of your mood.”

Jason sighed and, headed out the back of the house and down the staircase that led to the beach. He headed down towards the water. He’d found it calming the other day, to be near the water and not in it, and was hoping it would be again. He collected rocks from near the house before he went down. He liked skipping stones as a kid, but it had been years since he’d tried. 

Jason went down with his coffee and sat just before the dry sand became wet. He had to half bury the mug in the sand to keep it upright, and lit up a cigarette and took occasional sips of his coffee between throwing rocks.

The day before felt like a lifetime ago, and the person he’d turned into felt like someone other than himself. Not that it hadn’t felt familiar. It was like seeing someone at a train station, who you may have gone to school with when you were five, but you weren’t sure if it was them or not.

It was the first time Jason had seen evidence that he had changed. He’d been vaguely aware of it, but he had, in his Joker-tortured mind, had thought he matured. Right after the Siege, when he’d realised all the terrible things he’d done, he’d thought that he’d been a monster.

“Monsters don’t feel guilty,” Bruce had said.

That’s had only served to confuse Jason more, but now that he had felt the shift from relatively normal to _mad_ he could see it. See how rage had taken control of him for so long. He couldn’t see it until he’d spent some time in relative peace.

“So we’re back to the game of avoiding Bruce and Barbara.”

Jason jumped and looked over his shoulder to where Dick was. He deflated and breathed in the remains of his first cigarette. “We never stopped. The plan was to kill Catalina, and Slade and Bradford because screw that guy, and then spend the rest of my life on the run from Bruce’s lecture about trying to leave the first time,” Jason said. He looked up at Dick finally, and the elder flinched.

“That’s a lie,” Dick said.

Jason shrugged. “Mostly. I hadn’t thought of what happened after I killed them.” He pulled up a stone and threw it childishly. He was far enough away from the water’s edge that he could only make it bounce once. Jason decided that he had to be honest. “Still want to kill her.”

Dick nodded. “Yeah.”

“And it’s got nothing to do with Joker, or the Titan, or Bruce.”

With a long sigh, Dick nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“If it was me... or Tim - you would want to kill her too,” he added Tim’s name in softly as if he was still unsure if he could use it.

“Yeah,” Dick repeated. “I know.”

Jason’s lip twitched, and he looked at the time on his watch. At least an hour had gone by. “Everyone awake?”

“Yeah. I said I’d get you for breakfast.”

“I’m not hungry, really. Al made me a bacon and egg roll, and it’s held me over.”

Dick sighed. He looked back up at the house. “You going to stay here?”

“Yes, _mom_.”

“Give me your cup. I’ll bring you more coffee,” he said.

Jason held his empty cup out gratefully, and Dick rested his hand on Jason’s shoulder. “Thank you for not telling them yesterday. When Bruce asked you to stand

Jason pulled himself into a ball. He’d come well prepared that morning, wearing layers of jumpers, but it wasn’t cold he felt then. It was embarrassment. “Seems like you did anyway.”

“Yeah, but I did it,” Dick said. “I mean… don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t ready but…”

“I get it,” Jason murmured, digging his fist into the sand. He thought of Tommy. Of being a little kid, and seeing him get snatched. It wasn’t the same thing, but it had taken him years to tell anyone about that night, and it had been hard all the same. “I’m sorry I dragged this all back up for you,” Jason admitted.

Dick chuckled. “I mean, it’s been a rollercoaster of a week for me, so really, it’s better all the crap happens in one go, I guess.” He took a long pause. “Bruce figured it out. Like you did. He kept asking questions until he figured out the right answer. I asked him to tell the others.”

Jason had already figured the latter part out, nodding as Dick spoke. “Alfred told me.”

Dick rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah.” They fell into a strange silence. “Well, I’m starving, so if you’re not heading up now, I’ll be back later with coffee.” He squeezed Jason on the shoulder and turned to walk back up the beach.

“If there are sausages, could you–?”

“I’ll make you up a hotdog, yes.”

Usually, Dick would have harped on Jason until he opened up or dragged him upstairs, but the day before hadn’t just been crazy for Jason. Having your dead brother lose it over your ex-girlfriend assaulting you, and then trying to stop him from killing said ex-girlfriend in front of you, probably wasn’t high up on the list of normality.

Jason groaned and rubbed his face. He didn’t regret hurting Catalina.

She deserved it.

But the way he did it…

It was unfair to Dick.

He could still feel Dick’s arms blocking his blows to Catalina. He was forced to defend her because that was his code. He didn’t want her dead, but Jason did.

If he’d been in the right state of mind, he would have done it better. He would have flown Dick back to Mazatlán and when no one was paying attention, go back to gut Catalina in the dead of night. That was still an option, though he didn’t know what they’d done with her after Bruce sedated him.

He shivered at that thought.

That was when he realised how over the edge he was.

 _Stand down_.

He could still hear Bruce’s voice shouting in his ear. Still hear his own arguments ripping from his mouth. Still feel the rage that bubbled under his skin shift from Catalina to Bruce. If Jason hadn’t been so aware of what the significant change of personality that the Titan caused him, he might not have noticed it happen at all. But he did, and he’d been so sure that his anger at Catalina wasn’t manipulated that he didn’t care.

But the minute he realised that he wanted to gut Bruce – somewhere in between being pinned up against the wall and trying to bulldoze his way through Bruce to get to Catalina – the doubt of whether his anger at Bruce was real or a by-product of his torture re-emerged. He forced himself to stop. He gained enough control to stop, but not to calm down.

He’d felt like his lungs were on fire.

His head had hurt, and his stomach was clenched, and Bruce’s arm cut off just enough air to make breathing uncomfortable. He could feel dirt from the brick behind him paint his sweat covered back, and he tried desperately to _stand down_ but he couldn’t. Not on his own.

 _Help_ , he’d managed to wheeze out.

Jason clenched his fists at how desperate he’d been. _I can’t control myself. I can’t stop myself. I can’t –_

Jason heard something behind him and spun his head around, looking over his shoulder, ready for an attack. He hadn’t realised how wound up he’d gotten until that second, and he had to take a deep breath to calm himself down again, especially when he saw who it was.

There was Dick, with Barbara in his arms and the sight made tears burn up in the back of his eyes. He looked back out across the water, clenching his fist around nothing but sand – at some point, he’d skipped all the stones. “- just saying you’re heavier.” Their voices drifted across the beach.

“Screw you, Grayson. I’m sorry I didn’t bring my beached-whale-chair.”

“Maybe just lay off the cake.”

“Dick.”

“That’s my name.”

“ _Not_ what I meant _._ ”

He could hear the laughter beneath their words, and it twisted his gut, and he _yearned_ to have that again.

Jason blinked back the tears as Dick lowered Barbara down next to him and she shuffled closer until they were shoulder to shoulder. He flinched as she waved a coffee and one of Alfred’s hotdogs beneath his nose. “Brought you food,” she said, and Jason couldn’t look at her, as his chest stretched and ached.

He felt her struggling on his lap in the car after he’d kidnapped her. Heard her cursing him and swearing that Batman would catch him. He closed his eyes and couldn’t even bring himself to take the offerings.

“Can we join you?” Dick asked, sitting down on Jason’s other side.

Jason was acutely aware how close she was sitting. How her body was already curling against his side. Slotting in, like she belonged. “Do I have a choice?” he asked, sounding angrier than he intended. He was starting to shake. He had just wanted to be alone.

But Barbara had always fit so perfectly on his left while Dick’s spot was on his right and he hunched over, sat shoulder to shoulder with him. When he was a kid, Barbara and Dick’s tall athletic builds had towered over Jason. Now Barbara felt like a stiff breeze against his side and Dick was lithe where Jason was muscle, but they matched each other eye to eye. Still, they belonged on either side of him. Because they were his family.

He dug his fingers into his own arm.

 “No,” Barbara admitted. “It was more to give us a chance to not be rude.”

Dick smirked and leant back on his arms. Jason noticed though, how he angled his body to wrap around Jason, and his hand was near Barbara’s behind him. “I actually prefer being rude. Reasserts my dominance as the first.”

“Yeah. Cause _that’s_ the dominance you want to assert as a fully grown adult. The ‘I-used-to-wear-underwear-and-run-around-at-night’ kind of dominance,” Barbara said dryly.

“They were shorts!”

Jason thought it was a chuckle that was bubbling up in his throat, but it was the first threat of sob, and he took in a deep breath to stop it. It was just that it was so familiar, and they were making it so _easy_. “Just go away,” he whispered.

“Nope.” Barbara’s lips popped over the word. Her arms wrapped around Jason’s, hugging the one between her two. “You’ve spent far too much time on your own, Boy Wonder. Anyway, I’m sick of you avoiding me. I think talking is a lot easier than getting kidnapped by Deathstroke by the way.”

“There’s a reason,” Jason voice cracked and couldn’t finish that sentence. Dick slung his arm over one shoulder and his chin over the other. Between the two of them, their warmth sucked out all the ice from his bones. He tried to squirm out from between them. “Go…”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Dick said. “Babs and I spoke. I wouldn’t have brought her out here if she was going to upset you.”

“And I brought you Alfie’s homemade hotdog,” she said, waving it under his nose.

He wasn’t hungry. All the guilt and the remorse he had personified, and sat right beside him, holding his arm like he was important. 

He tried to _kill_ Barbara. 

“You shouldn’t… I can’t… This isn’t… Barbie, I’m sorry, I…” He cut himself off, knowing if he went any further, he wouldn’t stop crying.

When Jason was a kid, and he was a thief, he’d had a code to figure out who got robbed and who didn’t. Rich, yes. Poor, no. Adults, yes. Single mothers, no. But when it came to killing as an adult, Jason had made no code. He had turned ruthless, paving a path to The Batman with bodies. 

It had all hit him at once, and he could see, as clear as the ocean in front of him, Barbara in her chair as Scarecrow’s mercenaries hurt her the way Joker hurt him. He heard Tim, calling him a monster over and over. Felt Harley drawing the smile across his face. Felt the jerk of the car as Barbara went through the window, and he dragged his body out of the cavity of the car to drag her back, to punish her. He punished her, with the white scars she would forever wear - twins of his own - for not being like him. He tried to paint it on her skin like The Joker had it painted on his face.

“It’s okay,” Barbara whispered into the shell of his ear. The hotdog had disappeared, and he thought maybe Dick was holding it. But her hands weren’t occupied, as she took his and squeezed them tight. “You don’t have to apologise.”

Jason shook his head. “No, Barbie, I do. I really do.”

“Look, Jason–”

“I wanted you to be on my side,” he hissed. He pulled back and tugged away from Barbara and glared at her. “That was why I did it.”

Barbara nodded. “Yeah. I know.”

“No, you don’t!” he snapped. “I could have gotten you killed! I got a lot of people killed. A lot of innocent fucking people…” Jason dragged his hands through his hair, tugging on the ends. He couldn’t control himself when the day before. He hadn’t been able to stop himself, and he knew for the first time that before the Siege, he hadn’t been able to control himself for three years.

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ”

He tightened his fists, and Dick and Barbara both converged on him, grabbing him on either side.

Held him upright.

Kept him whole.

And he didn’t deserve any of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys,
> 
> Can you guys recommend some really well-written fanfictions? Any fandom, complete or in progress, any website, just no smut and English ("As much as I love Google Translate..." said No one, ever.).
> 
> I'm working on a project and I need some recommendations.
> 
> If you have a giant list or you want to get back to me, I set up a burner email: ithoughtslashmeanthorror@gmail.com
> 
> Send me as many as you can (and you can send your own too!).


	15. Two Steps Forward...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for all your reviews and recommendations. Whether you emailed or reviewed, I really appreciate it. You guys are the best I'm going to compile them all this week, and I'll reply to them as I go through. But please, anything you think of keep it coming. I need as wide of a range as I can.
> 
> Last chapter!!! Wrapping up one more mystery... and starting a whole entire story of others.

Jason woke up, dry retching in the toilet.

Sort of.

He woke up, and a wave of nausea hit so hard, he had to run to the bathroom. His first moments of awareness were when his head was in the toilet, and his brain clambered to remember what the hell happened.

_Don’t think. Hurl._

_Why am I hurling?_

The vingery sweet taste of many, _many_ kinds of alcohol reminded him of the mini bar and something about throwing Dick across the room.

He grabbed the toilet with both arms and died.

Or it felt as if he died.

Because in between bouts of vomiting, were waves of nausea and a pounding migraine, and the combination of the three convinced Jason that he had to be in hell. There was no other explanation for how terrible he felt.

None.

A cold pack pressed against the back of his neck and Jason shivered but moaned, tilting his feverish head back. At the same time, he noticed how cold he was, and to compensate a blanket joined the icepack. “A bit under the weather?” Bruce asked from next to him.

At some point, Bruce must have come into the bathroom and joined him on the floor, leaning back against the counter as Jason hurled into the toilet. There was a small satisfied smile on his face, and Jason narrowed his eyes. The asshole thought it was funny. “Hhn,” Jason replied, turning back to the toilet to throw up some more.

It had to be over. Jason wasn’t sure what he had left to throw up.

A cold bottle of water nudged the back of his knuckles, and Jason clamored to get it, gargling with the first mouthful and gulping down the next lot. “Not too fast,” Bruce said. “You’ll vomit again.”

Jason heaved again at the word _vomit_.

Bruce chuckled, head tilting back against the cabinet. Jason had a skylight in his bathroom. It was one of the few rooms in the house that had one. He usually liked it for the constant stream of light in his section of the house, but now that he just wanted darkness, he cursed the architect who put glass above his head.

Bruce was staring up through the skylight, squinting against the light with a pleasant smile. He looked quite relaxed for a man who was watching his youngest throw up a few dozen bottles of liquor, in sweats and a t-shirt. It was rare to see Bruce so casual. “You know, when I was your age, and Alfred sat with me when I was throwing up a booze cabinet, he told me one day I’d enjoy doing the same thing to my kids one day. He was right.”

“You and Alfred are evil…” Jason muttered.

Bruce chuckled. “Maybe. But you scared me last night, so I think you deserve it.”

Jason managed to keep his next sip of water down and flushed the toilet. He moved until his back was also on the cabinet, and flinched at the bright light from the skylight. “I don’t remember much,” he said. “Fighting with Dick. Arguing with you. Climbing the Royal with Barbs, because you were sexing up Talia.”

“Talia kissed me, and Barbara didn’t see me push her away,” Bruce admitted. He looked down at Jason. “I don’t trust her.”

“That’s probably smart,” Jason agreed, his head was pounding. He slid down the bathroom floor, so he was more slumped and rested his head on Bruce’s shoulder. He rewrapped the blanket around his shoulders, to keep himself warm, and Bruce moved his arm around Jason. He readjusted himself again, so he was more comfortable curled against his chest. “Why is she here?”

Bruce sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t like it though. It doesn’t help that I might have to go away soon.”

“Go away?”

Bruce hummed, rubbing his shoulder with his thumb. “League stuff. It’s off-world. Or, to be more specific, on a different world. Earth-3.”

“Where your crazy brother is?”

Bruce rolled his eyes. “He’s not my brother.”

“He’s the son of Thomas and Martha Wayne, and the brother of Bruce Wayne.”

“In another reality.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to,” he mumbled. “So you’re going to Earth-3, and Dick is going on a secret undercover mission with Slade Wilson.”

It was Bruce’s turn to question him. “How did you know that?”

Jason shifted his body to get a bit more comfortable, but couldn’t find any spot where the cold tiles felt softer. He gave up. “Hacked the mission briefs. Can’t believe you’re sending Dickhead. He left y’know. He’s not Robin.”

“I’m not sending him,” Bruce growled. “I don’t want him to go. I’m trying very hard to convince him of another way to do this.”

Jason cracked one eye open to look up at Bruce. “Really?”

“Really. Dick is stubborn. I think becoming Slade’s apprentice is far too dangerous, but he is going to do it with or without my back up. I’d much rather be there in case something goes wrong, which is why he’s not leaving until after I get back from Earth-3.”

“So why hide it from me?”

Bruce huffed. “Because I didn’t want you to think you could go off and do anything equally as stupid. At the very least, Dick is patient. I’ve asked him to give me three months to make him a deep cover. He’s given me time. I don’t think you would.”

Three months was a very long time. Bruce was probably right. Jason wouldn’t give him the time. It made him a little happy to know that Bruce hadn’t picked Dick for the mission. That it was something his older brother had wanted, and Bruce was helping him with.

“Dick’s still a dick,” Jason muttered.

“You didn’t win yourself any points last night,” Bruce said. “There was no need to fight him.”

Jason didn’t want to talk about Dick anymore. He felt ill enough that he felt like being selfish, and maybe a little childish. “How did I scare you?” Jason asked.

Bruce sighed and rubbed his face. “Better question. Why were you drinking, Jay?”

Jason pressed his forehead against Bruce’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Seemed like a good idea.”

“It wasn’t,” Bruce said. “And you know it wasn’t.”

Jason shook his head. “B, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“How long do you want to be grounded?”

“Is 'not at all an' option?”

“No.”

Jason took in a deep breath to hold off the wave of nausea and knew the only way out of the conversation, was through. “I don’t like those parties,” he muttered. “The people there hate me.”

“Did someone say something to you?” Bruce asked. He sounded even, but beneath it all, even drunk, Jason could detect a hint of anger.

“No, but they treat me like a dirty street kid who scuffed up their shoes.”

“Who?”

Bruce wasn’t going to let it go. Jason knew that. “It wasn’t… it’s just something that a girl told me.”

“Ariel Crowne,” Bruce correctly guessed, and Jason remembered with a flush of shame, just how much Bruce knew about her. He squeezed his eyes against the impending headache.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“I thought she liked you,” Bruce replied, ignoring his request.

Jason shook his head but regretted that almost instantly when his head swirled. He paused to make sure he wouldn’t throw up, then kept talking. “No. I was just on some dumb list of people she wants to sleep with. Dick was on it too. When I asked her out, she said I wasn’t on her level.”

The arm holding him squeezed Jason a little tighter, and between the blanket and Bruce, his head became sleep foggy. “She sounds like a bitch.”

The unexpected cursing made Jason chuckle and wake up a little. He pulled back enough to look up at Bruce. Bruce was looking back at him with a sad glint in his eye, and gently adjusted the cold pack on his neck, so it didn’t fall. “I know it’s been hard on you. Being adopted by me wasn’t easy. For you, or for Dick. The media attention is one thing, but Gothamites aren’t open to change, especially when it comes to the status quo.”

“But, I am just a street kid,” Jason replied and Bruce shook his head. He let Jason lean against him again, and the drowsiness came back. Jason let his eyes fall shut again and began to drift off, exhaustion catching up to him. Even so, he could hear Bruce and what he was saying.

“You were a street kid. You were born on the streets, and that is history that you cannot change about yourself. But you’re not that little kid anymore, no matter what any of them say. It’s not bad to let that shape you, Jason, but don’t ever let it define you.”

In his half sleep, Jason mumbled. “I’m not one of them.”

“Yes, you are. You’re my son. That makes you a Wayne, and Wayne’s built this city.”

_I know you’re trying to go by Wayne now and everything, but the fact is, you’re not a Wayne, and you can never be a Wayne._

That was what Ariel had said, and her voice made his throat clog up with tears, so he stayed quiet falling deeper into his half-sleep.

“I don’t hate you, you know,” Bruce whispered. Jason frowned, not quite understanding until Bruce continued. “You kept telling me I hated you last night. And it’s not true. I could never hate you, Jason, and I don’t care about Dick anymore or less than I care about you.”

“I know,” Jason replied, and then momentarily, he lost track of time.

Bruce jostled him awake, with a small shrug of his shoulder. His words must have been slurred or something because Bruce gave him a knowing look. “Come on. Bed.”

Jason’s stomach turned and the thought of getting up again. “I’ll throw up.”

Bruce rolled his eyes but held Jason against his chest again. “You’re still grounded,” he murmured, holding on to keep him warm, and Jason shifted enough so that he could hear the quiet thrum of his heart. It relaxed Jason. It stopped the room from swaying, and he took comfort in having someone else so close by when he felt like absolute shit. It reminded him of his mother, and the way she would curl up with him when she was coming down. _Maybe she felt like this all the time,_ he thought.

“Is being hungover always this bad?” he grumbled.

Bruce rubbed Jason’s head. “Yes,” he whispered, a small chuckle escaping his lips just after.

“Then why do people do it?” Jason asked seriously.

Bruce must have sensed that Jason’s questions meant something. Jason felt him tense and shift, and his heart rate picked up just enough to show Bruce was worried. “I think, the people you’re talking about, never wait around too long for the hangover to hit.”

Jason then also remembered, the extra shots his mother would take, to get herself high again before she got too low. He couldn’t remember much of the night before, and he wondered how Catherine could live like that all the time. Not knowing. Constantly being out of her mind.

“I don’t want to drink again,” Jason huffed.

“You can drink, Jason. You won’t turn out like your parents if you do. Just don’t drink the whole bar every time, and don’t drink because you’re upset. You can talk to me when you’re upset.”

Jason hummed in agreement then laid his hand over Bruce’s forearm and squeezed it. “I don’t hate you, B.”

Jason wasn’t quite sure what happened next, but when he did wake up again in the late afternoon, he was in his bed, and a bottle of water, a packet of painkillers and a note were all on his bedside.

_You’re grounded for a month._

_Love, B._  

* * *

Dick had to go back to Blüdhaven later that evening.

Roy phoned and said that he needed Dick back. Penguin escaped from custody and was rampaging in Blüdhaven, looking through his clubs there for weapons. With all the other villains locked up, and a lot of goons looking for work in both Gotham and Blüdhaven, Dick needed to go home to sort the criminal underworld out.

Jason told him it was fine, as they sat together in the living room with Barbara – Tim was laying low around Jason and hiding in the newly discovered Batcave, helping Bruce look through all the security measures with Alfred and Selina. They’d headed inside when Jason got cold, and Alfred had brought around tea and cakes. From there, they did the one thing Jason couldn’t get away from anymore.

Talk.

Which was emotionally and mentally draining, but he figured it was the least he owed them.

“You can visit,” Jason said, watching Dick toy with his phone. He couldn’t help but sound hopeful. He needed some space, but the idea of that they could leave and never come back didn’t sit right either.

Dick snorted. “Try and stop me. I’m calling Clark when I get home to install a zeta-tube nearby.”

Zeta-tubes was one example of a whole jumble of things that Jason had missed out on in the interim years since his kidnapping. It made his stomach turn. He thought he’d kept a close eye on things, but apparently, it wasn’t as close as he thought.

“Tim and I should probably go too,” Barbara said. “Gotham isn’t in dire straits, but the crime rate is slowly rising back up.”

Jason struggled with how he should feel about her going. On the one hand, they’d spoken and though all was not forgotten, and Barbara wanted a lot more information, the damage he’d caused her was forgiven for the moment. “I’m going to go tell them,” Dick said, getting up off the couch. He went to the cave door and flicked off the lights, and turned on the torch to get it to open. “It’s so needlessly dramatic.”

“But you like it,” Jason said, a small smile on his face.

Dick smirked back. “I mean, it’s impractical but cool.”

Jason chuckled as Dick ran down the stairs, leaving Jason and Barbara alone in the dim torchlight.

It was the first time they were alone together since the Siege, and the heavy silence that rang out meant that Barbara was just as aware of that as he was. Jason was sat back on the couch opposite where she’d parked her chair, and they stared at each other, not sure what to say. “I have a question,” Barbara said.

Jason almost asked, “Another one?” but shut his mouth and nodded instead.

Barbara looked down at her knees. When she looked back up to Jason,  he realized it was a serious question – one she didn’t want to ask in front of Dick – because she took so long to word it. “If you had succeeded- if everything you wanted had happened. If I joined you, and Bruce was dead, and Scarecrows gas had killed _thousands_ of people… What was next? What was the point of it all?”

Jason’s chest constricted with every word. It suddenly all sounded so savage. His plans for after Bruce’s death were vague at best. He had thought that, with Bruce dead, he would have some peace. But – he looked up at Barbara through his eyelashes – there was one part of his plan that had been clear. He had taken his wallet with him on a whim that morning, but he was glad because he had practiced his next words just as much as he’d rehearsed his monologue for killing Bruce.

He took out his wallet and removed a business card. Licking his lips, he got up out of his chair and crossed the room to Barbara, handing her the card. “I was a mercenary for a little while. I had to make contacts, and it was the easiest way I could think of. One of my missions led me to a neurosurgeon in South Africa that, funnily enough, I knew.”

Barbara took a minute to read it, and she frowned and turned it over. “I don’t understand. Who is Doctor Sheila Haywood?”

“It’s a long story,” he admitted. It was. A long and complicated story that he didn’t like dwelling on, and it wasn’t just because he hadn’t been in his right mind at the time. “But she’s a world-renowned neurosurgeon. She’s not allowed to practice in the States anymore, but she’s still good. She owes me, and she has the technology that could…” He swallowed and looked to the wheelchair, which Barbara was confined to. She followed his gaze to her legs and gasped, looking back up at him with tears in her eyes.

Jason knew, better than anyone that she was still a force to be reckoned with while she was immobile. She made her worst enemies while typing behind a desk. It hadn’t made her weaker or an easy target – even when rage blinded him, Jason had known that.

But Joker had taken away something, more than her legs.

He took away her choice.

Barbara had always had an affinity towards tech and hacking, and one way or another he was confident one day she could have become Oracle when she decided running around at night was too dangerous. But without the chair. Without the necessity, and always with the option to go back to the streets.

 “You’re… you’re joking,” she said, her voice wavering. “It… it _can’t_.”

Jason shook his head. “I wouldn’t lie to you. Not about this.”

“ _How_?” she hissed.

Jason shrugged. “Like I said. It’s a long story. But I saw Sheila do it. A few times. I even followed her patient’s recoveries, and it’s real.” They fell quiet as she flicked the card around in her hands as if looking for something there that would all make it seem less crazy. “I don’t know what my plan was, but I didn’t want to be alone. I wanted to fix everything The Joker ruined, and in my head, that meant him taking away Batgirl. So when I found this, I realized I could give you back your mantle.”

She looked up at him again, her mouth hanging open still. “You don’t have to be walking again. Not if you don’t want to. But if you do…” Jason left it hanging, and Barbara stared back at the business card, trembling.

Tim and Dick came back upstairs, with Bruce in tow, and the three of them stopped to stare, the three of them aware that they’d intruded on something. “Barbara?” Tim asked, stepping closer protectively. “Are you okay?”

She snapped out of her funk and gasped, wiping her eyes hastily and the business card disappeared. Jason, sensing Tim’s nervousness, stepped away quickly. “No, Tim, it’s… it’s fine. It’s all–” Barbara looked up at Jason, mouth still agape like the shock of it all had forced a gap between her jaw. “Fine.”

Tim looked at the two of them. He wasn’t convinced. Jason couldn’t blame Tim. He tried to make himself as small and non-threatening as he could, shrinking into a slump. _Of course, the first time I’m alone with Barbie, I make her cry,_ he thought. Jason tipped his head down and wondered what kind of an idiot he was. “We’re going,” Tim said, carefully, still unsure. “Right?”

“Right,” she agreed. She sniffed back more of her tears and looked up at Bruce. “Gotham still needs us.”

“We know,” Bruce replied, seemingly unfazed by all the tears. “Make sure the city is safe. We’ll talk after.”

“Yep.” She still sounded so unsure of herself, and she looked back to Jason, her mouth falling open again. “Give me your number. We can talk.”

Jason nodded and grabbed a pen and another card from his wallet -  a coupon card for coffee. He scribbled down his number and handed it to her. “Whenever you want.”

“Good,” she whispered.

Jason wasn’t sure if he’d done the right thing or not, but that didn’t matter anymore. It was Barbara’s choice, and he was glad that, after all the hell he’d put her through, he’d given it to her.

He made a note that he’d have to call Sheila and remind her of what she owed him.

Just in case.

* * *

Bruce clapped Tim on the back as he hugged him goodbye and told him to call when they landed.

It had been three crazy days, and he found himself disappointed that Dick, Tim, and Barbara were leaving before they could all have one meal together. He glanced over at Jason who was quietly talking to Dick as the older brother locked him in an embrace, as Selina chatted with Barbara.

“You can come back whenever you want,” he told his youngest. “And talk to me. Whenever you need to.”

Tim nodded, letting go reluctantly. “Thanks, Dad.”

Bruce smiled as Barbara wheeled over and nudged him. “Dick’s just gonna say bye to Bruce.” Barbara looked up at Bruce with a forced smile. “I’m _not_ saying goodbye, because last time I did you faked your own death.”

He huffed and forced a smile on his face. “You’re going to drag this out for a long while.”

“Forever, Bruce. It’s going to be forever.” She reached her arms up and Bruce leant down and hugged her.

“Take care of the boys,” he whispered.

“Always do,” Barbara replied.

Tim took Barbara’s wheelchair and pushed her up the ramp, but not before briefly and awkwardly nodding to Jason. Jason mimicked the gesture back then rubbed the back of his neck, shaking his head.

Alfred was on the ship, packing the dinners he’d made them into takeaway containers, along with replenished med-kits he’d put together. “Bruce,” Dick said, leaving Jason with Selina. His tone was serious, and his jaw set.

It put him on edge, and a hundred nights filled with hundreds of close calls all came flooding back to him. It surprised him that it all felt like a lifetime ago. “I’m going to come back,” Dick said.

Bruce nodded. “I know.”

“I want to help,” Dick said, his voice low so Jason wouldn’t hear. “This is my family too, so don’t cut me out. Even if you think you’re doing the right thing or protecting me. I’m an adult. I don’t need protecting anymore.”

The overwhelming sense of pride that burst through his chest made him reach out. Dick moved without hesitation, hugging him back as soon as Bruce offered out his arms. Bruce hugged Dick tight and rubbed his shoulder. He wanted to say that Dick would always need protecting. That they all would – Selina, Alfred, and Barbara included – and Bruce would make sure he was the one to keep them safe. “I’ll call you. I promise.”

Dick let out a long sigh and relaxed finally. He swallowed so thickly that Bruce felt the bob of his Adam’s apple against his shoulder and, after a minute Dick breathed, “Don’t disappear again, Old man.”

“I’m not _old_ ,” Bruce complained.

Dick chuckled and pulled away. “Uhuh. By the way. Glad you’re back together with Selina.” Bruce frowned and Dick shrugged his shoulders, walking towards the jet. “Even if Jason hadn’t told me, the two of you keep looking at each other with that sappy look.”

Bruce glanced over at Selina, and she was sitting on a cargo container with Jason. “That’s the look.” Dick was smiling when he said it and Bruce rolled his eyes.

“Be safe,” he said.

Dick nodded. “See you soon.”

He went back on the jet and Alfred came out minutes later, wiping a tear from the corner of his eyes. “You okay, Al?” Bruce asked gently.

“Quite right, sir,” Alfred said, pulling himself together. “We best clear out of the way of the engines.”

Selina and Jason met Bruce and Alfred at the stairs going up to the cave. The way the hanger was carved out of the building, the stairs twisted around a central spot, and formed an alcove from where they could safely watch as the jet-powered up and flew through the automatic doors.

As quick and unexpectedly as they came, suddenly they were gone and Bruce felt lonelier for it. He frowned and stared at the doors as they shut again, and he missed them already, but they needed to go. Gotham and Blüdhaven couldn’t be left alone for too long, even with Conner and Roy around to help. It was a reminder to Bruce that even if the Batman was dead, the city still needed a protector.

He felt a brush against his shoulder as Jason walked by, trying to squash his broad shoulders between the wall and Bruce’s side. _And that’s why I can’t go. Not yet._ “Jay,” he called out to Jason who, barely twenty-four hours earlier, he had carried up those stairs. “Can we talk?”

Alfred and Selina went up ahead, sensing that Jason and Bruce needed a minute.

With a groan Jason held the steel banister that lined the wall and pressed his forehead against the wall. “Can we just call a truce, B? I screwed up, and we never have to talk about it again?”

“It’s not about you running,” Bruce said, honestly. “Or about anything that happened yesterday.”

Jason looked doubtful but Bruce just went up ahead of him on the staircase. “Follow me.” He didn’t look back to see if Jason was following, but at that point, he had no choice. The only other option he had was to go and jump out of the hanger doors, and though he was sure Jason was considering it, he wouldn’t actually do it.

He heard a groan and footsteps a minute later, and by the time he was in the cave at the computers in one of the two chairs, Jason had managed to drag his feet to the top of the stairs. Bruce had pulled out the results of the blood samples he’d taken the night before. “I know why you’re cold,” Bruce said, not looking up. He was baiting Jason, and Jason probably knew it too.

Jason hesitated in the stairwell and winced. “Really?” He followed Bruce to the computer.

“It’s your hip.”

“My hip?” Jason leant over Bruce’s chair in a familiar gesture from when he was Robin. It made him smile as the same curious squashed up frown popped up on his face. “High white blood count… I have an infection.”

“Yes,” Bruce said. “The machines on the jet automatically scanned you, for broken bones and any foreign bodies. I checked them this morning.” He pulled up an x-ray of Jason’s full body on the screen and zoomed in specifically on his hip that hadn’t healed yet.

There was a jagged metallic object, lodged near the joint between his leg and his hip. He blinked in surprise and pulled back slightly. “Oh,” he said.

“Oh?” Bruce raised an eyebrow.

Jason nodded. “Yeah, I kind of remember that. It was one of the fights. Guy had a knife. I’d pinned him but he’d managed to get me in the hip with it. Ended up getting him in a chokehold and knocked him out, but yanking that thing out was hard. It was lodge in pretty deep.”

Bruce pushed aside the part of him that wanted to be angry with Jason and reminded himself it was hard enough to get him to come back to begin with. “It broke off. Your body heals at a rapid rate, but not well enough. You probably don’t feel sick, but this knife is infected with something and your body is so busy fighting it off, it can’t regulate your temperature.”

Jason flinched. “Okay. So maybe I should have let Doctor Bradford take a look at my hip that night.”

Bruce grimaced. “I knew he’d tell someone eventually that we were here, but I thought he would be handing me over to the police, not you to Tarantula.”

Jason raised his eyebrow. “You _knew_ he’d rat us out?”

“I’m certain there isn’t much that man wouldn’t do for money,” Bruce shrugged. “But I thought we could just leave if it ever came to that. Sorry. I thought I’d told you.” He frowned and looked up at Jason and he could see the disbelief flare into annoyance and then something else.

“I guess you’ve been worried about a few other things lately,” Jason huffed. “Me trying to kill you and others being one of them.”

Bruce sighed and turned his seat around so he could look Jason in the eye more comfortably. “I haven’t been worried about that at all.”

“Yeah right,” Jason growled, falling back into the chair beside Bruce’s.

Bruce shook his head. “I’ve been worried about you, Jason. But I didn’t think you were going to kill me. I knew it was a possibility, but it wasn’t something that consumed me with anxiety.”

Jason bit his lip. He stared at the computer screen. “Can you get it out?”

Bruce shifted his chair closer to Jason. “Are you going to leave again?”

Jason glanced out of the corner of his eye at Bruce and flinched. “If I did?”

“Tell me,” Bruce said. “I don’t want you to go, but I don’t want you to think I’ve kidnapped you. I just want to know where. I don’t want you to disappear, Jay.”

There was a tremble in his leg and Jason closed his eyes. “I came back because I decided I don’t want to be alone anymore, B,” Jason whispered. He squeezed his eyes tighter as he struggled with the words. “I’m not going to leave. I want to be here, with my family. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’m not ready. Not with you.”

Bruce wasn’t sure what to say. It was the first time Jason called Bruce his family. The first time in a very long time, and it filled him with warm happiness. He reached out and squeezed Jason knee and the second Robin took a moment to relax his face and reopen his eyes. “B,” Jason whispered. “Can we just pretend like… like all the bad stuff this week didn’t happen?”

Bruce knew they couldn’t, as much as he wanted to. “Do you want to talk to someone else?” Jason frowned and Bruce continued. “Do you want to talk to someone who isn’t me? Someone who might be able to help you?”

The frown deepened and then Jason realised what Bruce was saying. “You want me to go to shrink?”

The Batfamily didn’t do shrinks.

That was what Barry had said to Hal once when he suggested Bruce get checked for a mental illness – rather unfavourably… they’d been fighting about something at the time, though what Bruce couldn’t remember.

And though Barry was trying to interject between the two heroes with some ill-advised humour, it was true. Dick, Jason, Tim, Barbara, Bruce and even Alfred had all gone through their own issues and stepped out the other side with varying levels of PTSD. Bruce knew that there were parts of each of them that were broken but none of them sought out treatment.

“Your hip is injured,” Bruce said, carefully deciding his words. “You need help to fix it.”

“Don’t give me the, ‘your feelings are just another injury a doctor can treat’ crap, Bruce. I heard it from every social worker in Gotham, and look where we are now,” Jason interjected.

Bruce rubbed his face tiredly. “Fine. You’re a warrior.”

Jason blanched. “I’m a what, now?”

“A warrior. A fighter. You fight everything and everyone and you always have. You were kidnapped and tortured by a psychopath. You are not the same man, but you’re still a fighter.” Bruce had Jason’s attention now, as the frown on his face deepened. He was hanging off Bruce’s every word, but whether that was good or bad was yet to be determined. “I’m not saying go to an average doctor. It’s not like you could. Half the world thinks you’re dead and the other half thinks you’re a mass murderer.

“I’m suggesting you see someone we know. Who knows us and what we do and how complicated it can get. Actually, I’m suggesting you talk to Diana. She is a psychiatrist, as well as an Amazonian. They have practices stretching back to the ancient times that are used to treat PTSD. Diana’s offered to treat me before and I considered it but…” And God, he didn’t want to say it but he had to for Jason. “My pride got the better of me and I rejected her offer. But we’re both running out of ideas here, and I trust Diana enough to believe this will help. With the nightmares, with your memory loss, with your - what did you call it? Two Jason’s? This can help you sort through all of it, and deal with what happened to you instead of just push it aside and forget it.”

Bruce finished his speech and waited for Jason to say something. Anything.

He was sat back in the chair, one of his ankles resting on the opposite knee and his head tilted back in thought. His eyes were pointed at the ceiling, a tactic he used to use as a kid when he felt like he was going to cry, and his knuckles were white where he was squeezing his knees.

He licked his lips and cleared his throat. Swallowed and worked his jaw. He was struggling to speak, but Bruce was patient. “Knows,” Jason quietly said, his voice still hoarse despite all his efforts. “The other half knows I’m a mass murderer.”

Bruce winced. “Jason–”

“Can you take out the knife from my hip?” he asked, changing the topic.

Bruce had lost.

Jason was staring up at the computer screen and was rejecting any other form of help. He couldn’t push him. Even if he wanted to stay with them, Jason was always going to be a runaway first.

There was a reason why none of the Batfamily sought out treatment.

Some of it was because they struggled to ask for help.

But most of it was because, none of them were convinced they deserved it.

Bruce stared at Jason, disappointed he couldn’t get through to him.

He cleared his throat and turned his head up to the screen. “It’s deep, so I’d have to put you under to take it out.”

And that was the end of that. They both pretended like the conversation never happened as Bruce and Jason made a plan to get the broken knife out of his leg. 

* * *

_One week later..._

**From:** Oracle (oracle@clocktower.com)

 **To:** Batman (batman@thecave.com); A (A@thecave.com)

 **Subject:** Wedding

Hey guys,

I was talking with Robin and Superman, and we would like to run something by you.

We know you two are supposed to be dark, but Rob and I are having a rehearsal dinner with only the suits and my Dad – only people who we trust.

I know it’s dangerous, but it would mean the world to Robin and I if you were there.

Just think about it.

Love you,

O

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that is it for this story!
> 
> Sorry, it took me a lot longer than usual to do all of this story. Been having a time of it lately.
> 
> (if you see any mistakes in this chapter, shout out. I'm so stupidly exhausted, I fell asleep three times while trying to edit... And it was only 7pm)
> 
> I'm taking some time off from posting as I figure out some stuff at work but I will definitely post the next story up by the end of June.


End file.
